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Recovery Isn't Just for Addicts
Becoming the prey I’m melting away like a 5 foot wick To show a skeleton of who was once the author Now the pencil tips break and the pens ink tends to escape My eyelids worked overtime as hazard lights, Trying to communicate That I'm still held captive in this reaction But it's okay, Cause I could never be the captain anyways Taping cardboard wings to exit strategies And sending them through flaming hoops, Though it's not the spirit I feel I've captured But I tell myself that it's okay, Cause I could never tame the lion and be the ringmaster anyways You already disappeared like a missing plane with no debris There's a chorus of voices in my head As painted clusters of imaginary enemies And sometimes I feel as though your color slips in With nothing but recycled oxygen and anxiety to give Maybe this time I won't let you touch me during it I couldn't count these fights with a tally on the wall like a prison cell You wanted a battle and you got a war less tangible You were diving head first, but I had no access to my arsenal And I'd still give my life to you But it was never mine to give And I've always wanted to sing this all out to you But I'm not Stevie Nicks And I refuse to admit that you win Even though I wanted it like this And you're not one to talk You already disappeared like a plane, vanished without closure You’re the personified version of a unknown number If I'm endlessly terrified of what you think of me, is that terrorism? You took a dirty needle and injected a lifes supply Of a doctor-complex with a degree in misplaced heroism It's hard not to hear you behind me With the ground cracking underneath you like glow sticks And don't tell me you're too lost to find this Just follow my voice like you did before And I know you love the role of antagonist But I really need every confession I can get Dressed in tiny little bows and wrapped up like presents I wouldn't put it past you to lie in a courtroom The stenographer is sweating! Trying to unpack all these hidden messages you're relaying I'm bored, and I'm betting we could get more direct answers From king tut's tomb I wouldn't be surprised to feel you stab me in the back In a courtroom Can I be your exposure therapy? Can I act so insulted that you feel the need to make it up to me? I hope you still carry around the blade I bought you just in case Handmade and white with purple stains, I wanted you to finally feel safe Your therapist is sweating! Trying to figure out why you're not thinking about me, incandescently
Copyright © 2024 Matthew Bailey. All Rights Reserved

Book: Reflection on the Important Things