Thomas Forrister

I felt a funeral in my brain
Lines of black cars on a nervous highway
And there’s a certain fear in doubt
Everything won’t turn out
The way you planned

Show me your hands
Because I have to know
If you’re like a sieve
I fall through the holes

I hear your voice
I get scared
If I call your name
There’s nobody there

I felt a prick in my side
Push in the thorn, say, “I’m fine”
Pull me in faster to the bright light

Show me your hands
Because I have to know
If you’re like a sieve
I fall through the holes

I hear your voice
I still get scared
If I call your name
There will no one there