Wednesday, August 23, 2017

The Sender Is Not Dead!

A typical morning you’ll find me in bed
Wrapped up with monsters that stalk through my head
Don’t worry, they’re friendly, they talk in my sleep
They do the crying while I do the creep

They don’t ever question if I’m okay
That’s alright; I don’t have much to say
Empty promises can’t hurt me anyway
At least that’s what I’ve told myself to say

Something in the dark window
My face; the monster rattles the glass in my bones
My heart, its' beats, the call of the beast
There’s something inside of me wanting release

Your words bouncing off empty walls, your tongue playing dead,
I’m sick of the illness, the truth running red-
There is a sickly-sweet silence that washes our bed
I’m drowning out arrogance; the demons you’ve bred

Careful not to lose my head
I’ve been this close comatose, the cancer’s been fed-

I’ve been tripping on the mend

Return to sender, this is not what I meant!

I'd rather be dead!
I'd rather be dead!

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