A Treatment Basketcase 9/6/05

tc chronicles

I close my mind to the pain

numb myself like some antidepressant

Zoloft, Lexapro, Celexa

A repeating line of things that can't fix me

I know I'm a mistake, okay?

You don't have to scream in my face everytime I screw up.

I feel your bite marks on my body. I

brush them away

like some tiny little cat hairs

and they should be gone, and i

act like they are, that they don't affect me

but inside they break my soul down into

tiny little pieces of glass like plastic

that scream, staring up at you

with tiny tear filled eyes and ask

you "what have you done?"

And you don't answer.

You just stare, laughing your ASS off,

I'm not real.

I odn't feel anything except

your fingers on my body

prodding, tucking, pulling me into

a play doh version of what you wish i was

what you want me to be

I do what you want

I do what you tell me to

I don't mess up anymore

But I know I'm still a mistake okay?

Author's Notes/Comments: 



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