Cool Knife Bro

I want to brush my hair some more, but I'm scared it might fall out

I want to paint my face again, but I'm scared that they might shout

I dream of being pretty more than I do of thriving

And dream of being remembered more than I do surviving

I cross and cross and cross these trails and cross, recross old paths

Retread through all the footsteps where once we were so sad

It's nice to revisit, it's nice to replant

But do I garden my trauma like the spineless sycophant?

In busy rooms, all there for me I still feel misunderstood

But it's Ungrateful Brain and Chosen Pain to say I feel unloved

But I might be often drama king, I may mope and pout and grumble

Even in improving circumstances, I still find myself disgruntled

I dig and dig, dig out my brain with primordial soup spoon

Phantasmagoric memories are slowly detuned

And endlessly, I rewrite all my histories of you

Unstable causality breathes into tapestries untrue

And soon, unsure the guilt I feel just comes from my disposition

If these proppian dichotomies are just my own rendition

Some days I feel the hero, other days I feel the villain

Perhaps we both are mutually instigator and the victim

I want to think so fickle and live just aesthetic life

Because this self-analysis, it cuts through me like a knife

It slices so mathematically into these perfect halves

And the binaries of thinking can tear my head apart