Crawling in my skin
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
There’s something inside me
That pulls beneath the surface
Consuming, confusing
This lack of self control I fear, is never ending
Controlling, I can’t seem
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
I’ve felt this way before, so insecure
Crawling in my skin
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
Discomfort, endlessly has pulled itself upon me
Distracting, reacting
Against my will
I stand beside my own reflection
It’s haunting, how I can’t seem
To find myself again
My walls are closing in
I’ve felt this way before, so insecure
Crawling in my skin
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing what is real
Crawling in my skin
These wounds, they will not heal
Fear is how I fall
Confusing, confusing what is real
Confusing what is real
Confusing what is real.
Also, tits.
Personal Score: C-
Critical Score: D+
The Visualist's Veranda 