I Only Ever Write The Same Thing.

Pop a pill,
Take a breath,
Let's make it all better,
Screaming, weeping.
Blood, seeping.
And who are we really now?
Brken and lost, nothing at all?
Smoke on a window plane,
Frost on the glass.
Nothing at all.
You breath, you live but you're not living at all.
And every day you wonder.
Pop a pill, drink that water.
Let's make it all better.
But, are we really who we make out?
Or are you still the smoke on the window plane.
Frost on the glass, a cut in the wrist.
Just an insect bite.