i remember how it felt sitting in the grocery cart
the aisles looked so foreign
neighborhood market, i am boring.
all the ones that try to love me only pull me apart.
tell me i am getting worse, i am getting worse again.
i've always been a target, and you sometimes were the darts
seperate twin beds, sharing a bunk bed, you'd always play your part
i don't know what mine is, i don't know what mine is.
i would ask you to change the station, the sad songs made me cry. i layed in the dark that you loved so much and you gave me no reply. another night crawling into a bed much larger than mine, they'd tell me it was crowded.
i swore i was trying to take up as little space as possible, but it wasn't for their comfort.
it wasn't for their comfort.
amplify the danger as i minimize myself,
always sent me spiraling down to be concerned about my health.
wishing death upon myself, couldn't forget about the others. hoping we could all live forever, a child figure under covers too fragile to carry the weight of thought. and i was always at fault.
they called me porcelain egg shell then.
porcelain doll. chipped hand. hollow head. on the edge of the shelf, hasn't fallen yet.
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