I've learned to keep crimson ink in my pocket-
It started to spill, so I tried to block it
It seeped right through the gaps in reality
Draining before me, my individuality...

Filling with pressure, I could only sprint
Breathless and begging this life for a hint
Tornado people, a switchblade-sharp glint
Strapped on the back of the fading book cover
Not made for each other, but flattened to plastic
How ironic, how sarcastic...

My palms are now full of this septic scarlet
I'm worrying about getting my memoir wet
Quickly, I see that I'm being absurd
If something is mental, it shouldn't be blurred...
I might have preferred if this one stayed uncured.

It appears you have the fault for packing all my cuts with salt
Meet me in the glowing room of rust, I'm my worst...
Come and patch me up, or shade me in, or I will burst...

Or you could turn the other way, you'll get submerged in this area
And you'll be like me, slamming sound over hysteria...

From behind the sidelines, they thought they were bigger
Insisting that I was just dripping, a trigger
My madness, so easy for them to disfigure
And speaking of leaking,
It's just a small tear, why am I bleeding everywhere?