Not home, not yet.
I made a fool of myself
So you could pretend to be a child again
This, I decided, was sticky.
I looked inside myself and found a stranger
I was unaware of the face
staring at me in the mirror.
I think I hate him.
You just have worked some kind of magic.
Something is majorly wrong with this picture
Because the things worth holding onto,
Wouldn't have let go.
No one knows where words come from
But my lips broke.
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 8:05 PM UTC
Not home, not yet.
I made a fool of myself
So you could pretend to be a child again
This, I decided, was sticky.
I looked inside myself and found a stranger
I was unaware of the face
staring at me in the mirror.
I think I hate him.
You just have worked some kind of magic.
Something is majorly wrong with this picture
Because the things worth holding onto,
Wouldn't have let go.
No one knows where words come from
But my lips broke.
