What if I told you trauma was a stalker? Follows me room to room, visits Me at work, leaves dead animals on my day planner Texts me knives Licks my memory before I have a chance to get it right I'm digging myself into the carpet Learning how to make wall imprints on my kneecaps This is how I learn to dance With half of my body on fire There's not enough whisky in the world to make any of this bearable But I've been screaming in the basement of my trauma, trying to find a window A light, a stream, a sound Something that doesn't read "helpless" Something that doesn't read "sad girl, crying all the time, wrecked in the shower, a wet mess huddled in a bed" Don't look at me like that, like I can do better Like this sadness is a well that I jump into on purpose Nothing is on purpose My mania is so stupid and marvelous It sits in a glass jar Teetering on the kitchen counter, I'm always one slipped rug away From losing everythingTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
