Terrorized by my own skin and bone
running away from myself 
my skeletal passanger 
always with that rictus grin 
along for the ride 
till all the baggage sinks. 

Cover all the mirrors and be done with this 
no more saving face
for me and this circus there is no ‘safe space’ 
even my brain is a hostile place
got rainbow road ghosts groveling 
for position in this railroad host 

I’m about to freak out
can’t breach the surface 
suffocating in my own body bag
Mummy, please, mummy, why did you have to birth me? 

My hearts never been enough 
been stitched up and sealed with gore-tex gaffa tape
patched up and wrapped up in a jiffy
posted to the nearest seat in coventry city

Calling Dr Frankenstien 
because no one else can see me
but all I get is a dial tone 
Mummy, please, mummy, I’m bleedin’ 

I guess i’m on my own 
dragging my own corpse with me
bury myself down low 
It’ll be like I was never here…. 

Hell, 
looks like no one will ever know….

Authors note: 

The Idiom: “To Send to Coventry”

• Meaning: To deliberately exclude, shun, or refuse to speak to someone, acting as if they do not exist. 
  
  I also feel it’s appropiate to point out that this poem/potential rap (I can’t write music) is not supposed to be a negative slight towards my mum, but to depict the desperation inside of me where a child like version of me feels lost and alone. 
  
  More than anything it’s about society at large and the way it has shunned me. The way I feel like a freak. My anxieties at being in my mid to late 30’s with a heart that is expected to go boom at any moment and some more personal stuff I keep strictly private.