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stapled pockets
there are mornings you wake up
and the world seems right in your head
then you try to move about
and you remeber what was said
that heavy heart presents a weight
you battle thru the day
the endless task to keep your face
from falling all away
when you realize that all around you
thinks (as always) you're okay
and only you know what troubles ache inside you
that tempts you to stray
the un-enchanted aura
that bubbles in your sphere
creating a dismal monster
whose growls only you can hear
everyone thinks that it's flu
a summer bug that bothers you
you fight the tears
frustration brings to you
a desperation for pure survival
buries thoughts that abound
but sooner than you think it's done
that monster comes around
he question "why?" means nothing new
the answer is not there
it's just a scar that you live with
that acts up most every day
shield yourself so that nothing more
can damage your worn brain
you'll run, you'll hide, you'll anything,
to make sure you stay sane
because when the scotch tape on your heart
begins to peel away
you'll have to fix it on your own
to make sure it will stay
'cause no one knows how you keep alive
with paperclips and glue
this smashed up broken heart-like thing,
is all that's left of you...
it's all that's left of you.
