Scissors

I see the scissors in my hair.

How can it dare bare my hair?

And it rips and tears through my head.

I can feel it braining, just poking through my head.

It stresses me out how I just can't get it.

What does it want from me?

It's here just going rickety rackety throughout my body.

Just cutting through me.

It wants to kill me,

Take my life from me.

I feel my insides being cut through.

This body that's my duchy is just being invaded by these scissors.

I feel hope going away,

Dead leaves going away in Chicago-like winters,

Pain just rising, causing me to regress back to my old self, pained, detained self but stealth.

That's not good for my health.

There's nothing but utter ruins inside me with fledglings of blood cells increase to cause cancer.

It's supplemental to nothing but pain, agony and I can hear nothing but pain and agony.

And there is nothing but pain and agony.