Swallow the things that break you apart
You know you’ve done something terrible
Like swallowing pills or drinking alone
But you can’t quite figure out
What exactly you’ve done to deserve this
And the pit of your stomach is hollow
Like the poison doesn’t fill you up
The way you thought it would
Like it’s eating away at you instead
Like everyone warned you it would
But it makes you feel warm,
And distant, and numb
Something rattles in your chest
And you think for a moment
There is some sort of bird
Caged in the space
Between your heart and lungs
That maybe you’ve poisoned it,
Maybe its wings are pinned to your ribs
Or that maybe it will never sing again
And the worst part of it is
You’re probably right.
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 7:21 PM UTC
Swallow the things that break you apart
You know you’ve done something terrible
Like swallowing pills or drinking alone
But you can’t quite figure out
What exactly you’ve done to deserve this
And the pit of your stomach is hollow
Like the poison doesn’t fill you up
The way you thought it would
Like it’s eating away at you instead
Like everyone warned you it would
But it makes you feel warm,
And distant, and numb
Something rattles in your chest
And you think for a moment
There is some sort of bird
Caged in the space
Between your heart and lungs
That maybe you’ve poisoned it,
Maybe its wings are pinned to your ribs
Or that maybe it will never sing again
And the worst part of it is
You’re probably right.