to rest my intentions on mentholed sleeves and ribbons white
drunk as the lungs that breathe them
cruel are the veins that race faster than life should afford
while I hide myself in coloured robes
sober are the lips that dare not tell
of hypotheticals nor wishful nothingness
where the troubled heart drums treason against the reasoned mind
you know you're screwed
when that little voice in your head
starts speaking to you
in bad poetry
when you've already made
promises to yourself
to never again
so kid I beg you please
snap out of it
now.
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