Ick Ick Ick
Pick Pick Pick
Trich Trich Trich.
So here's my sob story.
November 2006, was when I hit the trich...
When you came into my life, after my grandma and dad went to heaven
You filled it with ignorance, confusion, and hate.
Mama told me it was cuz I was pretty, but I was a walking monster.
Gaps of pieces missing
My face is a puzzle with missing pieces.
I've been confused my whole life:
"Why is the sky blue?" "What is our purpose?" "Why do I pull out my hair?"
Therapist after therapist
I felt myself inclosing.
No one can help, nothing can help.
After months of feeling somewhat, a tad bit normal
I get the urge to pull like you have the urge
to ease yourself into my soul as soon as you see i'm doing good.
My brain twitches.
My eye itches.
My fingers to my face.
My voice tells me no, whilst my mind screams yes
As my heart aches of betrayel of my own body.
Boiling, pointless sensation.
This is what makes me.