It isnt the kind of pain you can really explain.
It doesnt hurt, like a burn or when you physically do something,
like cut yourself...

You cant draw it, spell it, or gesture a brilliant expression to show it all.

Its the kind of pain that leaves you crumbled in a corner, uunable to move
or cry
because if you do one or the other, you might just snap.
Its the kind that makes you drive 80mph on the freeway and look longingly at the darkenss beneath the overpass,
and wonder if you could fly.
The kind that makes you picture your own suicide in detail
and if youre too chicken to pull the trigger...
your death by no fault of your own.

(who said I was chicken?)

The Vickies dont take it away, pop them all you want.

The doctors, the medicine, the charts and pills and long talks with the girl who knows everything about you...
they dont take the pain away.

So go on, pop them for now
Vickie Licious
And when youre done being chicken
go on and pull that trigger.

08/13/2008

Author's Note: If I could only find the bullets.

Posted on 08/13/2008
Copyright © 2025 Janel Lacroix