trying to cramp into the smallest space, invisibility is beauty,

i’m in a ball on the bed to make my back stop aching.

but it’s my fault, oh but isn’t it? the selfish bitch who wants it all, but doesn’t know what that is.

when you get it, oh you get it, will you then be happy, or will you wish it, will you wish it so far away?

how are you supposed to share your life with me: half-manic, half-fatigued.

i’m sick of making it sound so bad, when in real-life, it’s life at…average.

but to my brain, my fragile, malformed brain…it’s too much.

i’m convinced i’m killing off everything i ever loved (remember when we spoke of introspection)

i know i’m the worst offender – all allies eventually surrender

and fall away.

(mind if I keep the white flag as a souvenir?)