Alyssa Buckner

The word hooks through my tongue and gets caught on the back of my gums

It’s the hand that reaches out

And slides me the loaded gun

Ironic that change is always the same

Red pill or the blue

Swallow it down and stuff my feet into my deteriorating shoes

But I beg for it, I crave for it

Just never in the real way

Because I wake up in my messy room happy everything has stayed the same

I haven’t packed my bags and moved on with my life

I get stuck at the door, uncomfortable that I can’t control the lights

Unpack all my clothes, jump out of my shoes

Hide under the covers because the same old change means something new

The blood spills out between my lips as I choke the word down

But when there’s a tug at the hook, I’ll be turned inside out