Monday, August 18, 2008

echoing off the walls

and i keep on picking and scratching at the layers of this filthy heart
watching as the days go by and the scabs grow bigger
infected and sore and wishing for a cool bath but always seeming to stumble into the pools of peroxide instead
foaming and stinging
crying and whimpering like a pitiful child, so weak

there's a song by coldplay that has the lines:
"i know, i'm dead on the surface
but i am screaming underneath"

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