BrOkEn

BrOkEn

Alone, afraid, seeking love
With edges that cut
And a mind shattered
By its alternate realities.

Broken, smashed, impaled
Into a thousand jagged pieces
That just don’t fit into this society,
Into one stereotype or the other.

Twisted, demented,
Full of anger and rage
Painful to watch
And impossible to hold.
She whispers repeatedly
To what’s left of herself

Life becomes what you make of it
Life becomes what you think of it.

And all the king’s horses
And all the king’s men
Cannot a queen make
Despite all her best efforts.

With one foot forward
And delusions held high
She steps into her own abyss;
Psychosis is, as psychosis does. 

Deformed, and reformed
With hard glue made of asses.
A thousand jagged thoughts
Hurtling through space
And laughing all the way 
ha, ha, ha

Life becomes what you make of yourself
Life becomes what you think of yourself
Life becomes what you think.

She cannot love herself.
Love her madly.

A heart of gold,
is just a Neil Young song
She sings to herself,
when she cries.

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