A recycled child
this is what i made me
money and alcohol leads to ciggarettes
the taste in my mouth is familiar
the smell of a recycled childhood is
strong in my nose.
ive allways ried to escape my reality
to just watch quietly
but the drug of denial sometimes wears of
and my true self shows like a cinder in the ocean
i deny my bodys claim, my mind wanders to
a place i push against the drug but its taking over again
i sit sometimes for hours just thinking about a life
i could have had, then the sounds all come rushing back to me
i dont want to be used again like a second hand toy found again
id rather just sit here and thinking.
a cd stuck on skip, my minds never here
my speech is stuck on a loop, but thats
all thats left form a recycled child
Bookmarks