My Life Is Like a Suitcase

Paranoia is me, as I lit another cigarette,,

Sorry for all my violent words,

there was something wrong,

there were too many shadows,

too many voices,

I packed myself away,




My life is like a suitcase,.

The sloppy teen hanging limply over the chair

black smudged eyeliner,

tired swollen eyes,

staring blankly at the computer screen,

hoping to find something,

to kill the pain,

only to find more pain,.

.unable to pull her fingers away from the letters that spell your name,

she can't even arrange the words that she writes about her life



My room is like wonderland to me,

but a junkyard to her,

I am the music blasting into my head,

I am a few stickers left on the wall,

I am a skeleton hiding in my own closet,

the way I always run my fingers through my hair,

memories in the glass windows,

All that I left behind in my prison,

crumpled beer cans, piled over the trash can,

the many price tags, I can never have enough,

some of my hair tangled into the carpet,

red lipstick on the cigarettes in the ash tray,

the smell of expensive perfume on the bed sheets,

a blood stain on the carpet,

I wiped all my finger prints away,



Paranoia is in me,

as I packed my things in my suitcase,

to run away,

From behind sad dark eyes,

your face In a photograph she keeps in her wallet,

she walks this road, hoping to find that boy