about my chaos cries.
I know it seems like gibberish
and maybe even lies.
I’ve never said those words before
and sadly I am proud
that finally they’re out of me,
though I’ll never say them aloud.
I know now what they’re used for
and why I held them back.
When they escaped I felt so faint
and everything went black.
My talent is overbearing.
My intelligence is a crime.
Why must I be poor innocent Bri
when I’m guilty all the time?
I fear I won’t really notice
when I sink and slip and slide
who knows-it’s already happened,
I didn’t even realize.
I won’t be re-writing this;
if you can’t read it--too bad.
I’m not really here to help you,
just here to make you sad.
Little f***er in the window
release your anger here.
Yes, my pen wrote the death threat
and my hand-the engineer.
I think I need attention
or maybe some type of meds.
What will you feed me if I ask
a screaming bunch of heads?