The equivalent of writing on a bathroom wall.

Send the starboard home,

and don’t forget the glowing panels.

I need something to forget the darkness inside of me.

Someone whispered to me,

“Try as hard as you might, but you’ll never leave.”

But a train just pulled into the station,

And I kissed my pet one last goodbye,

whispering,

“I love you.”

Because an animal is the only one who’ll ever care.

When I’m gone,

they’ll just have more to talk about,

and in a few years,

they’ll forget all about.

The equivalent of writing on a bathroom wall,

“She’s nothing,

she never will be,

she’s a nobody.”

Shun the masses,

because I think I’m finally going where I belong.

No more phoning to the place that’s marked as my home,

I packed my heart under my sleeve,

so no one could cut at it anymore.

I left the old me under a rock,

who would never have the courage to leave,

but would instead drown in her own tears,

and said,

please sleep deeply.

The equivalent of writing on a bathroom wall,

I think I can make it omy own,

with pen and paper,

I think in time the scars will heal,

if I don’t pour salt in them first.