Shots / Blunder

My mind always ticks
I guess, that’s just the way it talks to me
Running circles around itself
I might just push it off the balcony
Say it tripped and stumbled
Now that would be a tragedy
But what’s the use, I’d only follow suit
Is this slavery or is it alchemy
splat, hit the ground
Drop to my own epiphany
Im tethered to my thoughts
A hypnotized sinner
Taking shots of holy water
But that aftertaste is bitter.

The devil speaks in your voice
I can’t tell if it’s him or you
I tell him to stop
I convince myself that none of it is real,
But they fix themselves into the strangest lullaby
And rock me to sleep anyways.
I want to pick them like dried old scabs
I’d rather deal with scars
Than open wounds.

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