I'm tired of wearing long sleeves
in the summer.
This is my happy face.
Black is my favorite color.
The truth is they think I'm crazy.
When I try to talk they rewrite my thoughts
I like to see the red river flow
Down my fingertips to the bathroom floor
I do it again and again- repetitiously
I can hear my heart beating unwillingly
Ahhh yes!
More! More!
Drip.
Drip.
Drop.
The truth is I beg, pray, and plead it doesn't stop.
Oh no, here comes Mom
Sleeves down- where's the mop?
You know what- I don't care.
My mind us contorted.
Truth is... She should've aborted me.
