Watch the erosion of my soul,
slow and sure,
but I'm smiling.
The shovels treck in,
digging out anything important enough
to make me sick in my head.
It's good, it's okay.
I don't even notice the pain
when the drill starts up and finds
an easy hole in
to my mind.
Pumping out a blended mix
of memories and thoughts into
a large museum, where they'll hold a special showing just for
the people that hate me.
It's good to know
they care that much as
the seats are full and they're letting people in by the dozen
standing against walls and sitting on laps.
Let's see what she's made of,
voices whisperyell from the audience.
I ponder for a second, until it's gone.
No! Get your own thoughts!
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