Sterilized in White

Please don't wake to PTSD in the room
You can't keep the shadows of edges away
Standing spent and etiolated in your brother's doorway
Wrists dripping and scaring his hoodie-wearing girlfriend
It's kind of funny
He tosses the controller, struggles out the neon beanbag
Yelling "Mom!" and "My God, what the fuck is wrong with you!"
You stare blasėly

Please don't wake to PTSD in the room
Your thoughts have a presence that preclude silence
Riding to the clinic in the backseat of your mom's fourdoor
Watching the countryside fleet to nether of your sightline
I'm still here
Floating on a gurney, wheeled into a beeping backroom
Pleas and technical cadences coalesce above you
Sterilized in white

I thought I could rescue you, maybe I was delusional
I thought I could rescue you, maybe I was delusional
I thought I could rescue you, maybe I was delusional
I thought I could rescue you, maybe I was delusional



Credits
Writer(s): Eric Trace Donohue, Richard Edward Davenport
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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