Yeah I know, you can knock me out with a feather
Chain me with a red ribbon of a birthday package
I've been killed by those words, and angry looks
Cutting myself with a blade for the pleasure
Trapped me inside by that rotten old adage
My hope can be found in pages of books
I'm afraid to live and too scared to die
I refuse to forgive, I don't even try
Slap me, break me, or hurt me
Kill me, take away this pain
The clean needles are free
Ah the poke in my vein
Did you know
I am not sane?
Can you even see?
I'm so cold I shiver
And finally sleep
Riding the horse
Into dreams
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Needleman
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