bad
But I don't care, I don't care...this is what it feels like to me,
I take the train back early in the morning, and I can't get this smile off my face,
even as rotten as I feel, I feel so good, coming in so late, so drunk. Getting to see
the sky dim
and blue.
In the shower I wipe you off, even though I haven't let you touch me,
even though no one touches me, my skin
it tells me it needs the soap.
I prayed, sometimes I prayed myself to sleep,
but that morning, which I made feel like a falling night, I did not pray.
I slumped into my bed and promised not to wake.
I scrunched up covers and thought of
how great it would be
to go back
and
dig
into
myself.
I looked down and
I swore I felt my scars,
but those were Sophia's
and we were laughing then.
I was not scared. I let myself sleep. And during the day...
I had dreams so perfectly ugly.
Maybe I should have lied to you. Maybe I should have lied to myself.
Maybe then you would be happy. And I could want you and I could want you
(and I do want you, but wrongly...)
or something other than
your weight.
I would have liked to change everyone. To kiss them.
To make them mine, to make them love me so bad, so bad..
but I'm bad,
I do such awful things,
but I feel nice,
and in the morning
my body cannot remember
the tears I shed so perfectly the day before,
my body
cannot feel my scars,
it keeps moving
it keeps on. And so by then
all I have are my thoughts and the cold rain.
But I assure you,
I'm bad
and I like to be.
And we'd love
or maybe this is just you,
You'd love
to rock back and forth on a bed that isn't ours for hours
cause that would be so easy.
And we'd love
or maybe this is just me,
Maybe I'd love
to be everything you boys wanted, cause the steps
to where you are, would be much easier to find again,
but, (although I remain in love with you),
my skin peels
and
I never heal after your voice tells me everything I've done,
everything that keeps me as the title of our title of our routine.
And you can never hear me calling.
But
I will fight myself
I will fight my old pain
I will not let myself become everything that's made me
as wicked
as you find me. (I am nice to you,
I bet I am. But I see myself and I cringe,
I kick my insides, I rip at skin, still smiling, still smiling,
and at night, once you leave my room...I lock the door, at night,
once we're done talking on the phone, I cry over and over or I just
lie there
in silence
unable to be joyful
pretending even without an audience
that I am beautiful, but I am not, (am I?)
I cannot be in this way, and so
I let your eyes get to me, and so
I fall
back
and I cannot find the arrow,
I cannot find the cause,
when just moments ago
I held it so plainly.)
But
again
I will not let myself be as
pained
as you say
you hate me to be.
But you really love it, (don't you?)
and so do I.
Cause we're so comfortable
with being so terrible.
I take the train back early in the morning, and I can't get this smile off my face,
even as rotten as I feel, I feel so good, coming in so late, so drunk. Getting to see
the sky dim
and blue.
In the shower I wipe you off, even though I haven't let you touch me,
even though no one touches me, my skin
it tells me it needs the soap.
I prayed, sometimes I prayed myself to sleep,
but that morning, which I made feel like a falling night, I did not pray.
I slumped into my bed and promised not to wake.
I scrunched up covers and thought of
how great it would be
to go back
and
dig
into
myself.
I looked down and
I swore I felt my scars,
but those were Sophia's
and we were laughing then.
I was not scared. I let myself sleep. And during the day...
I had dreams so perfectly ugly.
Maybe I should have lied to you. Maybe I should have lied to myself.
Maybe then you would be happy. And I could want you and I could want you
(and I do want you, but wrongly...)
or something other than
your weight.
I would have liked to change everyone. To kiss them.
To make them mine, to make them love me so bad, so bad..
but I'm bad,
I do such awful things,
but I feel nice,
and in the morning
my body cannot remember
the tears I shed so perfectly the day before,
my body
cannot feel my scars,
it keeps moving
it keeps on. And so by then
all I have are my thoughts and the cold rain.
But I assure you,
I'm bad
and I like to be.
And we'd love
or maybe this is just you,
You'd love
to rock back and forth on a bed that isn't ours for hours
cause that would be so easy.
And we'd love
or maybe this is just me,
Maybe I'd love
to be everything you boys wanted, cause the steps
to where you are, would be much easier to find again,
but, (although I remain in love with you),
my skin peels
and
I never heal after your voice tells me everything I've done,
everything that keeps me as the title of our title of our routine.
And you can never hear me calling.
But
I will fight myself
I will fight my old pain
I will not let myself become everything that's made me
as wicked
as you find me. (I am nice to you,
I bet I am. But I see myself and I cringe,
I kick my insides, I rip at skin, still smiling, still smiling,
and at night, once you leave my room...I lock the door, at night,
once we're done talking on the phone, I cry over and over or I just
lie there
in silence
unable to be joyful
pretending even without an audience
that I am beautiful, but I am not, (am I?)
I cannot be in this way, and so
I let your eyes get to me, and so
I fall
back
and I cannot find the arrow,
I cannot find the cause,
when just moments ago
I held it so plainly.)
But
again
I will not let myself be as
pained
as you say
you hate me to be.
But you really love it, (don't you?)
and so do I.
Cause we're so comfortable
with being so terrible.