Pencil

If there was a song for today- It would be Red Rain or Hard Candy Christmas.  Do not ask me why?  You will not get an answer.  I should prove that I'm me.

Washed of this.

Put me down inside of that place that only you seem to know.

You seem to be the only one there.

I hate climbing out of this.

I push it out of me.

I ignore it until it burns my eyes.

I just fall over inside and crawl out alive.

Back in my dream, you'd think I would not get lost.

As many times that I've been here.

But it always feels new.

Like I do not know what this is.

Right in front of me.

There you are.

There you go.

And I just can't let this go.

I am fighting it hard.

I'm out of breath and I'm losing time.

My head is a pendulum and your hands are in my way.

Brought down and pushed out.

Just like my own feelings.

I cannot deal with them when they touch me like that.

I'm molested by my own private hell.

Wash me father.

Take it all away.

Make me Hallow again.

Take what he is away.

My prayers are silent films and my hope is a child on a milk carton.