Count the tiny
Bumps on the
Ceiling—
See how they
Slither at the
Cracks—
Why must I
lay here staring
Alone—
In a shut-
Up room by
Myself—
A wannabe depressed
teenage act child
Wrists?—
Too strange, will
Stare at stucco
For
Substitute.

Count the tiny
Bumps on the
Ceiling—
See how they
Slither at the
Cracks—
Why must I
lay here staring
Alone—
In a shut-
Up room by
Myself—
A wannabe depressed
teenage act child
Wrists?—
Too strange, will
Stare at stucco
For
Substitute.
|
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