So she threw the phone under her bed
I screamed what words came out...

If you killed me now I wouldn't cry
I promise I'd let you let me die...

So we're just scrapping the surface now
So I just started to bleed...

Since when does a still room spin
Since when does a dead poem start itself up again...

It's amazing how you feel so little
12 lines swirling in your head...

This page I promise is ripped
And this pencil is tasting like poison...

Put pencil on paper
Hope something comes out...

Sit back, relax
Exhale, inhale...

So I actually woke up the next morning
My head killed and my eyes burned...

Wasted thoughts
Wasted lines...

How many Advils does it take
To turn the light bulb off...

An explanation
A perfect one...