and it feels like hail
crushed under people's hurried steps
cold and wet and I'm just glad I'm not barefoot anymore
Sometimes everything I said, moves
hiding in the light
making a grim silhouette
sometimes it looks like a door
sometimes a coffin
Like a headphone injection
the words and the voices and the songs
all inside my head
ignoring every painkiller
every letter
every self inflicted scar
and the years
fall one on top of each other
like monuments
like concrete
covering it all
until I see your face in somebody else
in the modern art gallery of everyday people
and suddenly I feel incredibly small
and I freeze
as they walk and I lay crushed
under your hurried steps
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