Brittle Boned - Julien Baker

The low, electric glow — static snows in the lobby

Dull TV, magazines, waiting rooms can’t hide me

From the sting, paper sheets, bloodwork and the IV

And the whirring machines while the nurses reassure me:

This will be quick and easy, I’m not gonna feel a thing

Lie and say it’ll be alright, like a stray falling asleep

'Cause I’m so good at hurting myself

Pulse is slow, faint metronome on my left side

Beneath my protruding spine

You can hardly hear at night

White flag, blindfold covering my sunken eyes

And a line of rifles aimed at my sick mind

'Cause I’m so good at hurting myself