You ask me my history I hand you my book of scars.
This skin grows so tight
Not all prisons bear bars
Childhood held weapons, drugs, and pain
No cookies, no toys, straight shot to the vain
Reprieve would call around, send the devision to the door
Bruises shown often, judge, then a new home decor
Adolescent held hours in sleep or candle lit razors
Tears upon tears then fits and rages
I hate because I hate
The breath that escapes me
I’ll take lacerations and suicide please
Institutions to follow
Dear God so many years
Walls built for insanities
Constructed by fears
Volatile and desperate
Lead to many four point restraints
Injections, medication changes
And the side effects that remain
Life after life I have attempted to build
Using this faulty blueprint
Foundation landfill
Of lovers I’ve taken many
Loved maybe once or twice
Roads dreamed of paving given over to vice
I love you don’t leave me
Shit why would you stay
I’m going to push
And push
And shove you away
You asked me my history I hand you my book of scars
Memories and thoughts of who one thinks they are
Poetry of pieces collected over time
Now
It’s your turn I’ve told you mine