This Kind Of Broken

Feb 05, 2008 - 12:18 PM PST

Mother.
You Cannot fix this kind of broken.
At least not with band-aids and make it better kisses
So stop trying.
It's not like I'm six, and I fell of my bike
At least not literally.
It's more like I'm eighteen and fell off my life.
And the injury sustained was a little more than a scraped knee.
But, I'm a big boy now, I can handle it.
Plus, it's not like you where there before
Or like you'll, for sure, be here tomorrow.
So I'll do what I can to gather whats left of me,
Swallow my pride, get back on those two wheels and ride
Into the unknown
Vulnerable and alone,
And hope that someone along the way
Has Novocaine kisses and duct tape.