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When Bad Ideas Make Their Establishments
I can't think as my fingers bruise my pressure points near my eyes;
the eyes that have lost their sparkle.
Limp wrists struggle to hold their place
pressed up againstmy cheeks.
It's too late to be awake on a school night
and feel this way. It's way too late.
I stop injuring my temples so I canpull out my hair
that was never really attached,
just cruelly hanging from my head
that's SO FILLED with SO MANY fucked up things.
(A lot has moved in there and set up foundations.)
Bad Habits,
Bad Words,
Bad Thoughts,
Bad Girl.
Every word I say sounds all the more wrong
and I can't prescribe the medication
to cure my insults that have landed so hard on you
I just wish I had the antidote to this downfall.
(MY DOWNFALL)
