You can take a tablet to halt a head ache.
You can eat a sandwich to settle a queasy stomach.
You can sleep a while to revive your weary bones.
But the self loathing?
That shit lingers on inside your head for days. And there’s nothing you can do to help that.
God, hangovers are awful.
I should stop driving late at night.
Especially on country roads.
It’s becoming far too tempting not to press the foot brake.
And I’m not afraid of the darkness…
I trace those old scars with my finger
I remember the fleeting pain
And the lasting relief
I never told anyone
I hope I'm not about to re-open old wounds
Bloodied, bruised, bowed
but not broken.
Who am I kidding?
I am falling.
Tumbling through the air,
Spinning over and over,
Hurtling towards the ground.
Some fucker has stolen my parachute.
Don’t think I’m surviving this one, eh?
I just have nothing left
Damaged people are dangerous.
They know they can survive.