Another Song

by Noise Pollution

There were scars on his face
I guess you could say
I’m one of the lucky ones
At least I got away
At least I can cover the truth
I can hide it from all of you
I’m one of the lucky ones
I can hide it from all of you

but every other night
I wake up caught alight
again

You can tell me that I can try to change
But there’s nothing in the world
that can make the scarring fade

Must mean I’m preoccupied
with myself
like nobody else,
I’m selfish ’cause I
am one of the lucky ones
still alive
but I’m stuck in my head and I
might as well have died.

Everything, everywhere
I feel the rip, I feel the tear
If I could scream, and they were there
then maybe I wouldn’t feel so scared
but my lungs taste smoke
and the room’s still red
and I hold my breath
as I lay in bed
and I cough and choke
and I shake my head
and I think too hard
’til I sleep instead.

I’m one of the lucky ones,
and I’m as good as dead.

A song.

I’m a burn victim.

Here are some feelings on that.

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