Caution tape.

I stepped outside for the first time tonight,
waiting until the world got a little darker
so I could hide from the overexposure of reality.

but I barely made it past the parking lot,
before the flashbacks started to infiltrate.

I remember exactly what I was wearing,
my feet on the edge of the road,
taking the occasional pill to go numb,
my head down to stay hidden.

I fight and fight the images
but they're relentless.
They circle like vultures.

"We're the ones who have to
clean up the mess."

"You can do this the easy or hard way."

And I keep repeating to myself:
"it wasn't a big deal,
it wasn't an extreme reaction like you said"...

but it was, it was.

I can't escape this.
I can't escape me.
This is all I am, potentially lethal.

Wish I could barricade this memory
with caution tape:
"keep out, keep out, keep out"...

please let it end.

________________________________

Written while listening to "Routines in the Night" by twenty one pilots