I often feel like a small child wearing a tall trench coat
Trudging through the snow
Its waist deep and it blinds me
Covers me so lightly
And swallows me whole
This tall trench coat won’t keep me warm
and it slips off my skin sometimes
I don’t wanna think too hard about anything at all
It’s so easy to pretend that I’m fine
Its time for me to go to the place where children die
Where grown adults with scary faces teach their kids to comply
Its not fair for me to hate you for preparing me for this life
But sometimes I wish that children didn’t have to die
I’ll save us from this place
I’ll help you turn away now
Shivering in my embrace
Your poor thing, you little thing
Your mind is so frail and shaken, I feel your pain
You hate it when they laugh and mock you, I’ll turn you away now
You writhe in agony of having spilled out your guts on a page that they tore away,
Ripped from your mother’s womb, too early I will assume,
You’re abused and used and mistreated and removed
The infectious disease I call a mind that is at capacity,
This isn’t chastity,
You’re alive, you’re alive and I’m here, and it’s alright
May your mother hold you tight, tuck you in every night
May she provide, may she provide, I promise you that you’re alright,
You’re alright, you’re alright, you’re alright…
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