Dilemma

Dilemma

I want the thrill of the kill with an assortment of rifles
Or sit home all alone eating store bought fruit trifles

I’ve got my rage in a cage that I so want to release
Or I could sit on my own contemplating world peace

I want to cut myself deeply letting out all that’s bad
Or I could swing on my swing being dejected and sad

I want to poison the water and force you to drown
Or I could laugh through the tears and pretend I’m a clown

I want to hang from the ceiling at the end of my rope
Or I could sit on my beanbag and smoke lots of dope

I want to weep like a child who was forbidden to cry
Or I could look at my slideshow of holidays on Skye

I want to be radicalised my black flag unfurled
Or climb into a box and hide from the world

I want to burn down the church of paedophile priests
Or hide under my pillow still scared of the beasts

Distraught, and confused I just haven’t a clue
I should maybe Dial Emma – she’ll know what to do