For a child, who is bad,
There is punishment, accordingly.
Am I a child?
I am but a child, it would seem.
Therefor I am punished accordingly.
As I skimp on my running,
Exhausted and weak,
The bell strikes once in my ears.
When I bump strangers,
Discoordinated with control,
I feel my bell dole once, twice.
Through the night while I lay awake,
Thoughts streaming, and so, so much to do.
The bell chimes once, twice, third time's the charm.
And I see your smiling face,
A tainted, twisted, tantalizing grin.
I cringe, but remember I have earned it.
Close my eyes and feel tears.
And so here I am, again, and again.
I pinch my arms, form under-skin welts.
If it hurts you're not pinching hard enough.
Once, twice, and third time's the charm.
I punch myself, smack the sides of counters.
The next day purple marks your best efforts.
Once, twice, and third time's the charm.
I bite my hands, releasing frustration.
Stingy, red circles that bite back when you bend.
Once, twice, and third time's the charm.
I go about my day, wracking up my bells.
You can't let on to what you do, you deny it to all:
Once, twice, and third time's the charm.
