Have you lost your way or lost yourself?

What drives you

To do what you do

The act how you act

To tell people that you no longer care

because you are too tired 

to tell your right foot from your left

and your heart from your hands

as you give them to other people

to hold onto 

and quite frankly

you arent even sure what day today is 

because yesterday and tomorrow seemed to have blended together 

And even if you did remember

It wouldnt matter to you because the days no longer hold any meaning

Because you realise that she's gone 

And your eyes are red like you smoked too much weed

And your teachers thing you'e been crying

But really you've just slept with one too many crayon

and your fingernails are chipped 

Like you've just spent too long biting them becase you are scared of what lives under your bed

And of your words starting to mean something

not just to other people but yourself

and you wonder where you are 

and who you've lost that you cant remember anymore 

because your brain has turned to a drum kit 

which wont stop pounding and pounding 

And you are no longer sure if what you're seeing is what's infront of you

Or if you're imagining your funeral as a ticker tape parade 

Because you can no longer distinguish between emotions in your head

so you found a new guy and you spent the night 

but you're not quite sure if you had finished with that last guy yet

And you're pretty sure you've lost both of your lungs

Because for some reason you can no longer breathe 

And your skin has turned paler than it was before 

Like you took too much cocaine on a Monday 

But you can't even afford new pencils

So your teachers think you're sick

and your mum is telling you she's tired of buying you more staples 

which you use to fix your skin together 

Because you've run out of bandaids 

From all the times youve fallen for people who don't deserve you 

And you wonder if you deserve the food on your plate 

so you stop eating and your ribs turn to the only thing you notice anymore 

But your teachers think you're tired 

And I guess you are tried

But not from lack of sleep

You are tired of living, of waking up 

Thats when you find a new man and spend the night

And you still arent sure if you are done with the second last guy yet 

and your eyelashes look they are made of spiderlegs

Which move when you're angry or 

turned on  

And i see you're trying to tip toe around the cracks in the concrete

because you know stepping on them is bad luck, or atleast the children seem to think it is 

If only stepping on people was bad luck  

then maybe you wouldnt have footprints on your chest

Which you're no longer sure if they were from friends or stray dogs 

but now i guess they are kind of the same thing

The people around you are all wearing eyes as broches 

Which are watching the pigeons as they try sit on your shoulders

and you aren't sure where you left your house keys 

And people laugh at you when you ask 

because apperanly you cant have keys to a cardboard box 

Or so they tell the people around you

In whispers they seem to think you cant hear

And when the stray cats leave, you move to a new cardboard box 

And the cycle starts again