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Barrel Shaped Bruise
She sits in front of her door, To block out the world.
Closing her eyes she pulls out a match and lights a cigarette.
It's an old habit that she doesn't regret.
She thinks about her brother.
And the time they never spent together.
She inhales deeply.
And wonder if she will be doing this forever.
Depression and laughter are synonymous with her name.
No one knows the severity of this jokers game.
She is the jester of your court and the victim under your knife.
She lives like tomorrow is no where in sight.
And it's a double edged sword because no matter what she is going to bleed.
Falling down and looking up at the brass above her face, it never moves.
Because no one enters her childish hiding place.
She just stares at her golden reflection and contemplates an ultimate punishment that she never sentences her self to.
Then her mind always drifts back to his face and she sees slender fingers wrapped around dark steel bars and cuffs around tattooed ankles with chains swimming around his feet.
A murderer they called him, she just calls him her brother, and it's the only title that matters.
Depression and laughter are synonymous with her name.
No one knows the severity of this jokers game.
She is the jester of your court and the victim under your knife.
She lives like tomorrow is no where in sight.
And it's a double edged sword because no matter what she is going to bleed
Sometimes she is glad that his is locked inside hell
It gives her story an angle as she writes about him being in jail.
But the grief and the anger are not worth a Pulitzer prize.
So her brother, she has defied.
Flashes of salt water leaking from cold prison bars make the guilt consume her and she takes it out on her raw, scared arms.
And still no regrets are felt.
Depression and laughter are synonymous with her name.
No one knows the severity of this jokers game.
She is the jester of your court and the victim under your knife.
She lives like tomorrow is no where in sight.
And it's a double edged sword because no matter what she is going to bleed
Maybe I am her and this is my life.
It's my home, my family, my story, my plight.
And I am the one who feels all these things while encircled in a cloud of smoke.
This is probably why I chose to be numb and why I linger on the bad and try to disengage my self from the good.
And the him I refer to is indeed my older brother, not just a joke.
I do sit in front of my door, to block out my world.
My mother, father, and brother.
I am a chain smoking daydreamer. wanna be writer, daughter of the TV poisoned generation of criminals and fake silicon induced, bleached blonde scum. Who search for there dreams there whole life but never leave the couch.
I think of my brother everyday,
and he turned 22 yesterday.
Inside his hell.
And still I want to be just like him.
Depression and laughter are synonymous with my name.
No one knows the severity of this joker's game.
I am the jester of your court and the victim under your knife.
I live life like tomorrow is no where in sight.
And it's a double edged sword because no matter what I do, I am going to bleed
Self inflicted or cut open by you.
