Zombie in my Arms
Eyes glazed over, Hair damp, Skin as white as paste, You tell me how you've screwed up this time. Over and over Convulsing against my chest, Same thing Everyday Programmed Into You. Sometimes You hate yourself. Sometimes The doctors are after you again. Sometimes Your head hurts so bad. Sometimes Your body cries out in pain. It suits you to be the zombie in my arms, like it suits all the pretty flowers to die, but I don't think you realize that your pain is lightening through me. You're too busy buried in me to see that I weep when you do, too busy crying to see how you rip my heart out with every wet spot on my shirt... Written December 23rd, 2001 © on Dec 22 2001 03:15 PM PST, Katrina Armour 0 • 8
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"Eyes glazed over,..."