I sit and think of you when there is nothing else for me to do, when the silence gets the best of me. The things my body does when it wants to one blink of an eye and my brain is switched on.
Silence runs like a knife in my chest, feelings first before i even know what caused it, i haven't cried in so long i forget how to.
Suffering is my kryptonite, it clothes me like my anxieties first cousin.
Can't feel the scratches on my arm the bruises on my ribs nor the cold dry cracked skin on my lips. the life i once held inside me fades, slow and painless...all that im left with when i can't feel is the damage unknown scars but i think that i am fine.
It takes a stranger to show me what i am blind two, it takes me months to accept it, years to repair it, and almost a lifetime to understand what happened that one time in my life that caused that fucked up crime scene you left me with.
I deny the Photographer any pictures because they only serve as a reminder, no cameras please this scene is not for the news.
Don't broadcast my open wounds before the healing process is done, my once beautiful face without my cover girl makeup, or the said stories i tell with my cracked and glass like shattered lips...dont put my body art on social media so that others can rate it and compare it to their past lies.
Instead, take me home...let me wash away yesterday and today, all traces of the old, dress down in my rags of comfort, lay my head on that beautiful bird and rest my eyes.
As i lay here do me one favor..Put Track 15 on repeat and let that art beat my ears, tell my story to me, as if i didn't know it or live it...let those words they used describe to you what i can't in a way you understand better. Let this artist broadcast a story that's true but only he and i know, let his words run so deep you feel the raw beauty of all he says, you understand where he is coming from and you start to believe you've lived this life to.
No matter how you take in his words or our story, just play that track for me, because this is my song.