Estelle

Estelle my flower

Are you blooming this spring

Or have you stopped growing

Are the answers in your petals

As they pick them

For their stupid, “he loves me, he loves me not” game

what a waste of your precious beauty

like it will make a difference

he doesn’t give a damn about you

so stop destroying Estelle’s glory

how self involved you must be

to think your fate can be determined by a flower

She says what’s my fortune to the fortuneteller

Only to receive an answer that could have applied itself

To every lost soul here

That’ll be fifty dollars

For wasting your time

I cannot repair broken things

I just can tell you they are in dire need of repairing

Are you busy

Are you too busy to cry

Are you too busy for progress?

I am living in a hole to deep for you to find

I spend my evenings smoking cloves

And filtering through the pills that I keep hidden in the bottom drawer

And sometimes I want to rape Estelle

Like there’s some sort of cure for lovesick girls like me

And I’m learning my one and only love

Was for the pain I’ve harbored since birth