I've used up all my bandaids
And lost them all

My days compare
to a rollercoaster's rise and fall

Rather than the steady trail of a train

Where are all my bandages? I cant find them
I used them for my wounds
But they disappeared

The cuts burn
And the bruises bleed

I no longer care

I have no bandages and no bandaids
I can't complain
The wounds are self-inflicted
I relish the pain

It's alright
The wounds are a work of art
Emotional
Delusional
Dysfunctionally comfortable

But what good is a bandaid
To a broken soul
A painkiller
To a faulty heart
What good is a smile
To hidden tears?