Bandaid
Paris Jackson
You know I’ve spent a good few years
Just thinking, drinking about you
My head is filled with souvenirs
I’m limping, beginning to undo
The pieces of me
Strung together
Free the new me
I dream of you when I’m bleeding out
I’m veiny, I’m draining out and done
I wonder if there’s a small amount
In your heart, a part of you that loved
Or if I was just another stain that made
A decent bandaid
I know it wasn’t the same for you
The singing, the ringing in my ears
I’ve done everything that I can do
So I’m writing, pining ‘til I’m blue
The seasons change
Like us, like me
And thus, ending
Now there you are with a filled up arm
With some pictures, scriptures on your shelf
I always wished you would do no harm
Insanely, and mainly to yourself
But here we area stabbing lost crusade with no bandaids