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brick by brick
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inside my mind has been numb for six years.
i can't be blamed for my actions.
it's what's in the cup that matters.
everything i do is only for the reactions.
clear elixer with something bubbly
has me walking like a baby
grabbing for somebody, anybody.
i'll move his hands around my neck
hoping he'll be the one to squeeze too tight.
but he just gets nervous
and asks if he's doing alright.
never been the one to talk about shit,
always the one finding reasons to quit.
i have this weight on my shoulders
so i'd rather just lay in bed
than explain how i built walls seperating me from my foundations.
soon, it'll be too much to let anyone else in.
brick by brick i made this path.
just me, mary jane, and sylvia plath.
