Inner Demons

Branded by her indigo,
She sits listening through the walls.
It's not like she can walk through them.
So she just listens.

Talking in riddles,
She understands them perfectly.

"He doesn't love you"
"No One loves you"

It’s so funny when oxygen is the punch line.

She likes the feel of her skin touching nothing
But coarse ropes.
It's not masochism.
It’s just murder.

It's not like she can control herself.
If she could, she wouldn't have to scrub herself down with
the cow's tongue at the end of the night.

The moonlight absorbing her sins,
With the chamber pot in the corner,
They say the moon as strange effects on people you know?

Because her mentality is waves,
Thrashing against the rocky shore of his patience.

No lifeguard is around to save her.
No one saves the fat chubby girl,
the lonely girl who never gets the guy.

Girls like that only need to be saved from themselves.

so she woke up this morning and fire three warning shots,
right through his skull.

She stopped fighting with her demons,

Now their on the same side.