Brittle Boned

Alone, electric glow Static snow, in the lobby No TV, magazines Waiting skin hides me From the sting, paper sheath Blood warm in the IV The worry in the sheets All the nurses reassure me It will be quick and easy I'm not gonna feel a thing Lying, say it will be alright Like a baby falling asleep Cause I'm so good at hurting myself Pulse is slow Faint metronome on my left side Beneath my protruding spine You can hardly hear the knife Lying flat, blind on Covering my sunken eyes And the line rightful Aimed at my sick mind Cause I'm so good at hurting myself