I thought about a lot at one time and I got confused a little

When I grab the limbs of the trees these days, all the leaves suddenly drop. It's too early for fall to claim it's victims, so I resign my worries to the diagnosis of me. And that's alright. I'll just try and avoid holding hands from now on. I'm used to suffering in this sense.

---

When my mother drinks,
She asks me questions about purpose and reason.
Why was she raped?
Why do I remember it so well?
How do I feel about my father?
And I'm not sure what to answer
So I tell her that it all happened
And we are all here.
And I guess that's really the only truth
Because how I feel and the reason behind things
Can change from one day to the next.
So I tell her
As our tears meet
(Her's willingly, and mine so goddamed confused)
That things are.
And for me,
That's enough,
But for the Bacardi,
It's not
And I don't want to talk about this in the morning

---

I can't talk to people about things I don't know about.
Because that would be a waste of both of our time.
And I'm already short on friendship, so I wouldn't want to go upsetting anybody.
So I ponder a lot.
Which catches the few friends I have off guard.
"She's not one to ponder, because pondering leaves no room for smiles
And that girl there is all smiles"
So I try to smile while I ponder
So that no one gets the wrong idea,
Thinking that maybe I've got something on my mind that I'd like to share.
Because I don't want to share questions that I don't know the answer to,
Like if I was raped or not.

---

I place my fingertips to my eyelids and count to three.
Because three's that magic number
That gives you time.
One is for "Ok, you're making a commitment"
Two is for "This is not the time to throw up"
And Three is for "When you open your eyes, no one will be holding your hand"
And your job is to still be alive when you get to that spot after Three
That's not exactly Four.
But when I get to the blankness after all that solidity,
I get to the uncomfortable state of not being sure
If I'm alive.
Or, put more correctly,
Wondering if not being alive would be better than this.
And that's why we don't count to Four.
Because that's the number where you ask yourself
If you'd rather be dead.
And we don't ask ourselves that question
Because sometimes the answer is yes.

---

When I say "I know"
I don't mean that I know how you feel
I just mean that I know how you told me you feel.
And I'm sorry to say that
I think that's all I can handle.