Sometimes I feel like my brain is too full.
Like its full of old rusty pennies,
And I can taste the old blood on those pennies,
As I sink into the soft,
                soft,
                        dirt,
                            and
                                just
                                    collapse
Then, someday, when the poisonous pennies will fall from my skull, and I shall rise from the earth,
With clean forearms,
Clean hair,
Clean skin,
And walk amongst you unburdened and unseen
Dressed in white,
With feather feet,
So light I don’t make a sound.