I'm bringing out all of my tools;
The scissors needle and the thread
The tape, the stapler, the glue
I lay them out upon my bed.
I take the needle and the thread
And on my lips I feel a prick
I stitch and sow them quick and slow
And finally I make them stick.
I take the glue and close my eyes,
Upon the lids I paint it fair
I open them and I don't blink
All I can do now is just stare.
I take the stapler, load the barrel
Pull at the corners of my mouth
Tap the trigger, shoot the bullets
My grin no longer facing south.
I take the tape and mask my ailments
Stick it all over skin and scar
Hide all my little imperfections
And I have now become a star
My skin is pure, my sound so silent
I speak no ill, voice no complaint
My lips - they're tightly stitched together
Now don't I seem like quite the saint?
I look aware and quite alive
My eyes are open wide and free
My mouth is permanently in a smile
How much more perfect could I be?
ESTÁS LEYENDO
I Think We're Doomed
PoetryA bunch of poems I wrote. Pictures include quotes from the songs I listen to and some of my drawings. Cut off my wing and come lock me up Just pull the plank yeah I've had enough Tear me to pieces, sell me for parts You're all vampires so here You...
