L.T.R.M.

L.T.R.M.

Lies precluded concern
Dusk relies on dread
He’ll be arriving shortly
I’m not okay

The moon will blind me,
But I couldn't care less
Call the hotline number
I’m not okay

Sweet sweat smothers–
Around my redden face
And I feel sticky inside
I’m not okay

Would you shed tears–
If I confessed my iniquity 
I don’t deserve empathy
I’m not okay