so i'm up again
dabbing at my eyeballs
hiding the fact i'm practically blind,
and pulling at two sleepless chunks of my thick hair repeatedly

it's here i remember the nights
i promised myself that i was okay
after hours of feeling fingertips play across my spine so unconditionally..
those nights were scary to believe

i realize i haven't changed at all, haven't
convinced my reflection that i'm perfect enough to live and be
in love

so here i go up again,
everyday with that scratched record effect
collapsing into mirrors
still trying to be beautiful enough to love.