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?