I feel her lungs
Threatening to fly out of that
Little cage as the
Phlegm begins to
Build up,
Growing into a
Bigger ball
Jammed right in the
Centre of her
Narrowing throat

A spoonful of this
Two pills of that
A jugful of water
A pack of lozenges

Why isn't it
Getting any better
And in fact even
Getting worse?

Trying not to do
Anything funny
Until I reach home

Maybe I was just
Tired of all the
Sudden temper flares,

Maybe I was just
Scared when she started
Breathing that way,

Maybe I was just
Feeling ****** the whole time
But

I just know
Today wasn't
Too good

I'm sorry, my old friend,
That you have to suffer
Along with me

You're a good fellow,
Very kind at heart,
But I'm afraid this time
Just let me be

You know why
You know him
Just trying to
Minimize the damage

Don't worry bout me,
I'll stay safe and manage.
Just...
Take care of her well would you?

I've never felt
This vulnerable
This lonely and
This cold
On a sleepless rainy night

Tonight is a
Good night to
Die.

Tonight, I am torn again
Because I am who I am.
And because I am me,
I am judged for it.

Tonight, I am torn again,
Because I talk to
Voices in my head
And I can't sleep or seem to eat

Tonight I am torn again
Because I seem to have lost a friend
I know I must not be mad
Yet there seems to be no end

I don't want to answer questions
Oh those I've had enough,
Would you please, please,
Just let me be tonight because

Tonight, I am torn again.

One in the morning and
They're still screaming

Can't exactly
Blame a voice
In your head

Tick... tick... tick...

I've been standing for
Five
Whole minutes

Waiting,
Watching,
Hoping that some
Kind car would
Stop completely while I
Try to cross that
Zebra crossing:
That less than ten metre-long line,
But obviously

No car does.

Every time I step towards those
Stripes,
The cars move forward
Intimidating me,
As if laughing...

Taunting

I step back again
And the driver zooms past,
Some give me
"That look"

I know
They're laughing
Inside their heads,
Some might be angry
Judging from that
Middle-finger man

I just need to cross this street,
This less than ten metre-long street,
Street...
Street...
Street...

Tick... tick... tick...*

I've been standing for
Five
Whole minutes

I reread
Over and
Over again

That conversation

And I just wonder:
What the hell
Am I?

Oh look,
There you go again,
Worrying about
All kinds of ****.

You can't do
Anything
You know

I know but,
But...

Oh Frank...
If only you didn't
Put me in bed so early,
Why didn't you ask
If she was okay?

But I can't exactly
Blame you
For even I
Wouldn't know
What to do.

I am confused.
Why do I feel?
It hasn't happened to me.
But yet everytime they mention
Any one of
Their problems,
Why do I feel so?
And what is the emotion?

I live right down the street
To the only mental asylum
In our nation
And sometimes I wonder

Is that a sign?

This is the
First time
I cry in the morning
Like this.
What is it?
What's wrong?
Why do you suddenly weep?
There's absolutely
Nothing,
Nothing,
Nothing...

Am I supposed to
Congratulate you for
Having such an "exciting" childhood
Shrouded with corruption?
Am I meant to
Clap when you
Boast about your "visits"
To jail?
Am I supposed to
Hand you a trophy
When you tell of all your gangs and "buddies"?

Shut the -beep- up

I hate the way you laugh.
I don't know whether it's because
I hate seeing you happy or
I genuinely hate the way you laugh.
Loud, snorting, but mainly yeah — really loud.
It's quite embarrassing going out with you,
Especially when all you laugh at is

Innuendoes.