Just a Scratch


I'm not sure where to start--
Ah! Scratch that, I know right where to,
The belly of the beast? No!
I'll go straight for the heart--chew!
. . . Well . . . it's my heart . . . really,
That's where the problem lies,
Choked up on coked-up dreams of butterflies,
Not knowing truth or fact from fiction,
I'm itching, just to take it out,
Maybe a bit of rice can dry it out,
Soak up the overeager thoughts,
The ones where I become the victim,
Where "This time's different!"
No, not anymore!
Because I know it's not, it's just the same,
Like the last time but a little less as tame--
Now, I'd like to apologize for all of my--
Self-criticizing, but--it's hard not to,
Because when you're the only one who,
(Well, maybe not the only one, but the best fit to)
Stand in the way of what you want,
Mistaking sated for patient and trust for discard,
Yeah, it's real hard,
But maybe I could tell you,
If I just knew where to start.

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