You can’t ask me to tell you where it started…
Since birth a description was written for me
by every hand that was big enough to hold a pen.
We knew I couldn’t speak,
so they assigned a title for me
figuring my silence was a good enough signal for consent.
We walk through screaming cities past drunk bodies all searching for a way to get home
stumbling over, we grab everything on the way down hoping something might just break the fall
We're all desperate for attention
We move in packs with others like us
helping to mix cocktails of desperation with the poison we spend our housing deposits on...
That could've been us
She said as her eyes shoot like daggers into the pit of my gut
Nothing else floats a reality to the surface faster than the sight of fear in someone's eyes pounding as hard as the heart in your own chest
When you both know you’re thinking the exact same thing...