There were times that I wanted it
So bad that I made it hurt,
But now I wait as patiently as I can
For my heart to ache again.
Now I've a shell I could sell as warmth
That I can always hide in.
I want that home to be nice, my pride and joy.
But it won't ever own a bed.
There are some that could come close
And sometimes hurt more than they help.
But I'm fine with the flies landing on me.
Where they will go away and I end up somewhere else.
I can't look a dog in the eyes.
One that just wants to lick me.
Secrets in a vault that eat your insides like acid
And mean nothing to anyone else.
But it's the inflatable cross you bear
And it's a self-importance you carry to think it means something.
(But it doesn't and you punch yourself in the head for it and then)
You crouch into a box where you pretend it doesn't exist.
The fear can sit there.
Stewing, festering, growing, the box grows too.
You build your world around it.
Appendicitis
Pile
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