bottle

Perhaps my flaw is that I was too selfless
And I'll probably gift away my last breaths
Half-dressed under flickering street lights
Half-confessed, half-possessed
they'll say as say they stare into the abscess

"Relax", "Don't stress" I guess I get your good intents
But intense to one, just seems to pale in others lenses
back to the sixth sense myth
emotive over-sensitive it's
"good that you should vent" or it's
"just like everyone else's"

Well this seems a barren plain of platitudes
as it's rude to neglect the help that's readily dispensed
well it's just that- dispensed
25 cents and turn
and your plastic packaged bandage
should cure from itch to burns
remove stitches and spurn glitches
spit genies from urn
in fact, if it floats, it'll cause witches to burn

which is exactly my predicament
I am just a witch in this
Malleus Maleficarum straddled best seller list
which just displaced the exodus
stakes enter rib cage, exit dust
what's next, it's trust
followed by a bottled form of regiment

sediment
sinking to the bottom, ever reticent