They say if a tree falls but no one is there to hear it,
It doesn’t actually make a sound.
That tree is me, alone and fallen from a broken spirit;

No one heard as I became one with the ground.

A newspaper is black and white and read all over,
Like the blade of a knife making love to an arm.
They say luck is found through a four leaf clover,

But even the leprechauns resort to self-harm.

In October we carve pumpkins to make light of things scary,

This is the same reason people chose to cut their wrist.
There is some irony behind the tale of Bloody Mary;

Because even in my mirror, there’s a beast behind the mist.

And children everywhere fear the monster under their bed,
The one that waits for them at night.
Only this time, the monster is that brain in your head,

and it doesn’t wait for you to turn out the light.