The waves of the traffic crashing through my bedroom. I'm held tight. Bundled in my cocoon. Laughing, saying excuse me to be polite. Leaving myself be, no ruckus, just a reckless mentality. Being my own psychologist. It's like there's a full moon. Out and open. Saying here I am, scoop me out with your spoon. Ha. Drained hemoglobin. Drip drip. Sounds like rain. Trip trip. Feels like a sprain. Oh noice. Now the train tracks its way into my Brain. It brings rain. Heavy and dropping with pain.
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PoetryThis is for when the original is not enough or satisfing. When change is wanted. When the finished product is not up to their standards. When your told to not be you. You can only be you not anyone else cause everybody else is already taken. And som...
