One hot summer night where I was not the same.

The bitterness of a bad day, longing for a better way

To cope with one long, blazing summer night.

But a better day looked distant

As I’m in my nearly dreaming state of being

When my father’s fiercely screaming for my family’s dreadful grieving.

Raw, no filter, crooked needle, hot head.

The evil little spirits in my head,

The same ones that cut my uncle’s thread,

The same ones that put my family to sobbing, my father’s head throbbing,

Made it impossible to sleep.

So as I’m woken by the weeping of our auntie now turned widow,

Woken by the thought that I can’t relax even a little,

Woken by anxieties still tugging on my shoulder,

I gave it into the summer heat.

Raw, no filter, crooked needle, hot head.

I jumped out my bed, and much like a monster,

Making manic movements with violence in my conscience.

The sleep I was missing turned to a night of rampant hissing.

I took every item in my room and sent them flying,

Blood dripping down my fists, light breaks through the broken wall,

I didn’t feel the pain at all, because I made it

Raw, no filter, crooked needle, hot head.