To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
The medication is not me But neither is the sickness it tre… You may hear its effects In my voice In my opinions
I enjoy his company Riding shotgun Conversation No one to overhear Our inside jokes
When I think of my mom I think of malt o meal muffins When I think of my dad Memories of a child Chasing us around the circle
Springtime means Berry pickin’ In warm sun Therapeutic Part of me
Would I rather be A younger me? More productive Stronger Would i have to give up
I spend all my time Fighting with you In my head If we fought At least it would be
I will be Forever in debt To my mother Any gift Would come up short
I am a consumer Female Twenties I buy Cheap clothes and lattes
My pump Constant companion Of my disease My sensor Resembles a feeding
If you find someone That can do it Better than you Get them on your team
My soft spot My sweet boy I’d do anything for Who convinced me Little boys are the best
The passive-aggressive Guilt trip Is a weak tool For your purpose The sensitive
The human heart ...leaps and jumps ...races and sings ...sighs and groans The treacherous heart can
Desperate for his attention Knowing it will drive him away Jealous of a game - how lame Choking self-esteem where I lay Desperate for his affection
