Another panic attack as I was browsing the stacks and the books were falling in an avalanche. Though he sensed I was trapped, he was busy with…something.
Now I’m checking my phone, but I don’t wanna talk. Don’t wanna lopside my language. No, I don’t wanna go off, ‘cause I lean in when I suffer.
A panic attack. Though my directive’s relax, it’s beyond my skillset. Covetous of the calm wit from a tyke uninvolved, all abyss with no clapback.
I’m checking my phone. He’s unworthy of talk. If he really wants to be the one, he’d forfeit shotgun for once, ‘cause I lean in when I suffer.
But I take him back to the county fair. I take him back though he don’t deserve to be here. He drew a bath and floated there. He cares a lot. We’re strictly speaking self-care. Lean in when I suffer again. Ahh!
I’m checking my phone but I don’t wanna talk. Don’t wanna lopside my language. No, I don’t wanna go.