242

Your name is 242 Says the yellow paper At the end of a patient pen And ballpoint Checkmark Readied with fingers, anxious to continue shuffling A deck of cards Of which I am one Or 242 But in any case, zero Because with one to ten on a scale I usually fail around The part where I protest That my dress fits me all wrong And when this lipstick, which is present for Each song, each cursory choice tries to make the air A bit more pleasant and make me seem A bit more forgetful Instead of consciously wrong- THAT Is where I fall My heart is a little less numb and little more dumb than it should be But I guess a couple more hits Is always what it will be And a couple more scars Will make me what I should be I don’t want to be lovely I want you to love me Even half-heartedly I’ll stay If for a moment I won’t be zero But a name under your Ballpoint hand But I am only lovely on the tip of a needle And each side is sharp So, where the sharp side may fall So will I, blood in my eyes pounding To get out, but there only be 242 tears To cry