You knock me down
And stare at my corpse on the ground
Until it blinks itself back to life
You kind of look like somebody’s wife
All suppressed and mad
Silent rage and very sad
Do you get a kick out of this kind of thing
The power games and broken wings
“You refilled on August 22 
That means I can’t give you
Anything for another ten days”
But I kind of need it, it can’t really wait
I’m almost out and the kind of state
I get into when there’s a fluctuation
Is not any kind of iteration
That anyone wants to see
“But it’s not up to me”
~You won’t move my ground~
I feel as I push and she don’t make a sound
Heavy like earth
And bedded down in the hurt
She has inflicted centuries ago
I can see your past lives, if you didn’t know
And passive aggression
Authority without question
Is what rules your sign
I can only be grateful your life isn’t mine
I feel the hatred fill the room
As the incompetent b1t(h
Turns me into a kind of witch
And I pound down the street with all the slurs 
Attacking the name that’s hers
I watch my mind and my emotions swirl
Then someone lambasts me for being a girl
And my car won’t start
And a broken heart
Comes crashing in
I didn’t mean to let it win
But it’s so hard to fight
When my kryptonite
Lives in my soul
It’s the best of the tide as the waves roll
Against the shore
And what’s more 
Is I want to make a complaint 
But who do I paint
For triggering a wound
And gross negligence when it comes to doom
I don’t think they have a box to put a suggestion
And I’ve always loved the pharmacy in question 
With its open plan
And airy feel that teenage me can
Search for presents at Christmas time
Bubble baths and things sublime 
Now I’m standing at a counter trying to reason
With a woman who don’t know the season
Of time and circumspect
I can feel her reject
My diagnosis and fear
That it would ever touch her, the dear
I’m bitter I know
And I should just let it go
It only happened two hours ago 
And I seethe
Would I leave someone in need
But it’s more than that
It’s the look she won’t take back 
With her pen
I won’t be calling to her again
Though I doubt she cares
For who dares 
Question a professional soul
And my begging bowl
Is sharply removed 
When I see the groove 
She wears in the wood 
A reminder that not everyone is good 
And fair and even
And some people even view leaving
As a kind of sin 
But when I looked at him
I forgave the world 
You can keep your till, I’ll keep the pearl