Passive aggression and straight up aggression
Flow through my skin and shoot my transgression
Death would taste sweet like a strawberry wine
It would be one of the very few things that was mine
Fully alive, responsive human, being there and present
Sound out the words and think through what is meant
Inner connections falsify reality
It isn't pretty or witty or silly
It's dark and it's dank and it's gritty
Take a risk, they cry, trust your body, they whine
My risks and their repercussions and my body and it's parts aren't mine
My consciousness flows like a dry nile
I'm filled with rocks and sand and bile
My feet are broken roots from a tree
That I lost sight of and didn't want me
Ode to what was and could and should be
Epic scenes and acts and stories
That were ripped and dropped in tar and feathered
All in an effort to make me "better"
Under the elaborate and gaudy rug I was shoved
"We love you, but not all of you" they said with a shrug
And forced my head back under the rug
I met Disdain and Confusion and they had mirth
They told me who I was and what I was worth
They taught me to walk and hold my breath
Keep things in my ribs and my throat and my head
Uneven lines and hurried rhymes
Things that don't make perfect sense but they were mine
But then again that too was only a matter of time
Nothing is mine and mine is nothing
Shoving and shoving and shoving and shoving
Fibers fill my lungs while rocks in my stomach sink
The broken porcelain that is my skin clinks
My eyes are glass and my mouth is cotton
My voice so unused that it's turn rotten!
Everything I am is a fucking patchwork quilt
And the ones who made it do nothing but guilt
Death would taste sweet like a strawberry wine
And it's one of the few things that is mine
Flow through my skin and shoot my transgression
Death would taste sweet like a strawberry wine
It would be one of the very few things that was mine
Fully alive, responsive human, being there and present
Sound out the words and think through what is meant
Inner connections falsify reality
It isn't pretty or witty or silly
It's dark and it's dank and it's gritty
Take a risk, they cry, trust your body, they whine
My risks and their repercussions and my body and it's parts aren't mine
My consciousness flows like a dry nile
I'm filled with rocks and sand and bile
My feet are broken roots from a tree
That I lost sight of and didn't want me
Ode to what was and could and should be
Epic scenes and acts and stories
That were ripped and dropped in tar and feathered
All in an effort to make me "better"
Under the elaborate and gaudy rug I was shoved
"We love you, but not all of you" they said with a shrug
And forced my head back under the rug
I met Disdain and Confusion and they had mirth
They told me who I was and what I was worth
They taught me to walk and hold my breath
Keep things in my ribs and my throat and my head
Uneven lines and hurried rhymes
Things that don't make perfect sense but they were mine
But then again that too was only a matter of time
Nothing is mine and mine is nothing
Shoving and shoving and shoving and shoving
Fibers fill my lungs while rocks in my stomach sink
The broken porcelain that is my skin clinks
My eyes are glass and my mouth is cotton
My voice so unused that it's turn rotten!
Everything I am is a fucking patchwork quilt
And the ones who made it do nothing but guilt
Death would taste sweet like a strawberry wine
And it's one of the few things that is mine