I could write some lines for you
That follow all the rules and guides
To help you see my point of view
To show you my grotesque insides
But darling what's the point of that?
There's nothing but debris
All the rhymes and reasons end up flat
They won't help you see.
There's no formula or cure or stitch
No magic in the things I flee
My insides are an empty ditch
That's how He left me be.
Maybe one day I will break all that
The stitch and ditch and guides and lines
And find a way to be alright
Maybe even feel, sometimes.
My body's warm but there's no soul
There's no point to resist.
A witchy-bitchy-little hole
Is nothing but abyss.
