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The crack's growing When I was little I learned to picked
sunfilled buttercups, and raingrowen daises I sat for hours and wove them into a wall to capture my hatred, anger and fear. Years ago a tiny fault started to appeared, a thin red lone winding it's painful way Between my lonely body and mind. But there's a growing crack becoming so big the worlds breaking through Who will hold my hand when the flowers comes crashing down? Everyone's the ones in need but what happens when it's me Crying in the bathroom blood running down my arm tablets desolving down my throat? My words held in check Rained in by the knowledge of how it makes one feel I can't let it be me on the white tiled floor But I won't have started bleeding On the day the feeling returns But 'till the feeling leaves, I'll stay up a sloping tree And I just wont come down (unless there's rain.) But I know I'll be singing up a mountain On the day I feel less than fine Blue clouds drifting by I'll walk into the earth's hole And I just won't come out again. |
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Worm There is a worm in my head.
Sometimes I forget it's there, Until the world becomes so bare, I've got to run into my bed. I'm the only one who sees, the only one who understands, the need to carm myself when my hands are not my own. And so I lye on my side willing the hurts unchained by the cuts, and earn to cry. |
Little Pills Now that the pills
have dissolved into my system, the feelings have carm, sleep replacing the need for pain, but what remains is the fear of what I have become. |
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Spinning My head is spinning,
92 hours, and I'm riding high on low seratonin. Curse the doctores and the bloody tablets, running low in my drawer. It's the side-effects -the unspoken withdrawal symptoms putting my head into this tumble drier, but my own finger that hit's 'ON'. |
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