I can't Google my signs and symptoms
Even if I do, I'm sure it'll end up in my demise
But like a cold, I fear seeing the symptoms
So when the voice in my head sings about eyes flashing like highway signs in a hotel room,
all I think about is you looking at me
And my heart is mine no more
It is running around like crazy
In my own chest as if it's his personal racing track
Because I realise the consequences of these subconscious actions
This has never ended well and I don't know if it ever will
The uncertainty makes me sick
I still have to pack my bags and go back to dwellings
I don't have a home anymore
No place and no one to call home
I'm quite homeless
Home is where the heart is
But it's pinned to wall and it's draining the white from it
Layered with red like a Velvet sponge cake
the wall stands like your achievements in an unlikely life
Who would've thought
No comments:
Post a Comment