[center]
Physical Repair



Sometimes there is stitches around the head that needs to be pried
The armor that armed it isn`t there
It`s not as strong as it was before, although it never was
That feeling...of being full, feeling the shell
Those feelings would get one through a day, till challengers come to understand it


That pack of gauze gets itchy
The pact is getting old, ones pocket can get torn of this, annoyed
It must get boring being upset all the time, it always calls for first aid
All the people who do patch up the boo boos will run out of lollipops...if this never ends
It’s sticker says: It`s not the stress, it`s the strain, it`s something that`s feeling abused


For pain like this, one needs ambiance
If that all else cracks up, that ambiance will be an asylum,
A real asylum where everyone goes for vacation, for as long as it takes...
One shouldn`t take a fate so twisted
One has to twist the table, for a proper operation


Flip the switch so the brightness shows likeness
Sleep on dreams, not just candy with special effects
There`s hope in the waiting room; wait for it, care for it
Many are not the only ones sitting in the lonely space
One dose or attempt may be enough, but many will need many to save themselves


..To be spared from a self-made flatline
[/center]