washing machine
If I could hit my head,
Over,
And over,
And over,
And over again,
Like in a washing machine,
It goes bumpity,
Bumpity,
Bump,
Washing away the pain that's in my mind with less powerful pain in my bleeding head,
A blood filled tide pod fills my head with the fresh scent of blood,
Blood that oozes out
Blood that seeps in to my surrounding skin,
As satisfying to watch as the bubbles bouncing round and round,
Dreams of having a hammer right here with me,
Thump,
Thump,
It will go on my skin,
Knocking through the walls of my skull,
To the gothic interior within,
Knocking the glass of the light bulb,
So I can sleep tonight,
If I could hit my head,
Over,
And over,
And over,
And over,
And over,
And over again,
Knocking the dark thoughts out of my mind,
Bleaching my brain from dark to light,
Like a washing machine,
Like a hammer,
Hitting my mind simply allows it to shatter
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