Passivity is poison in thoughts that persist

In open bleeding fucking wrists

Consciousness becomes another cyclical sense

Overly used and left entirely unimpressed

A lack of true skill in such bitter neglect of thought

They continued to laugh and I felt with more time

As if I’d been double crossed and left far too jaded

With a mind set on healing the infinitely lost (and hated)

Thankfully the whole time I was heavily sedated

And now it seems we were screwed

I’m thinking perhaps they shouldn”t have used you

By a thousand first meetings where we came face to face

Never truly seeing what we should have first replaced

Lost and reeling, reliance on a feeling

“Bitch, quit motherfucking stealing”

From my energy and my time to what’s always been mine

If it was you I think I’ll be fine


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