Disappointed, disjointed, on this morning of mourning, I'm aborning my warning. I've been anointed in a rise-up ritual for the exploited.
"Just get over it. Stop crying. Quit that pining, You little nitwit." Okay, sure, it's my designing.
Flashbacks and panic attacks associate with disassociation, setting fire to my mire like a cremation. Maybe I could move on if I had a brain ablation. But the static's so thick I can't leave this station.
Drinking and drugging, I’m doing anything but hugging. Starving and bingeing, My mind’s unhinging. This pessimism colors all, tingeing.
But, I'm friends with this ghost. I love her the most. She's all I've lost. And at what a cost!
Sure, I'll be moaning and groaning about the incessant stoning, missing and not missing the family I’m disowning.
But drowning in frowning with her beats living and forgiving. Unforgiving and alone. Without bones. With no home. In an endless roam. Without her, I’m a broken record stuck on fucked. Without her, I’m no answer on the telephone. But she always picks up, no matter my tone.
So, I hold on tightly, and if she doesn't, I'll act impolitely. Hanging around, banging the ground, until the tears I’m looking for are found.
Dripping and draining, these eyes will be paining over all that's chaining, over all I'm not gaining.
Blood and giggles, Innocence wiggles. Secrets and shushes, Weirdos force hushes.
Goodnight, Moon, with all your terrible phases, with your hideous curtains and strange bunny faces. Show me the sun and all it erases, bleaching out the black and grey making sure they don’t stay. But then again, this pain feels okay.
Cherry broken. Tulip busted. Rotten roses kiss my lips. Skinny, harsh fingers that linger upon my hips. Death smells. Regret dwells. I’m unwell. Isn’t this all swell?
Eight is great! And so are all the others. Should I call my mother? Kiss my father? Did I forget to tell? Happy birthday to me. Welcome to Hell.
Happy birthday to us, for eternity! I love you, forever, I mean it, sincerely. You’re the best friend I never had. World's Greatest Mom! Universe's Bestest Dad! With you I’m okay only being sad. You're always there, no matter what, hanging out, stuck in my gut.
We'll blow out these trick candles with all our lungs handle and cry with the sky about our scandal, over and over until the next sleepover.
We pinky promise to always remember. that you'll still live inside me, forever, from January until December. But, from now on, let's live in splendor.
We'll sit here together until we run dry, and have our last cry. Goodbye, Crybaby, let's cry and cry and cry.
