water drums me under/want to duck out?

it's like all i want you to do is run in the building with two hands full of fire and say
"look it's like i bled for you but it's real and it's elemental
and i've always been afraid to make myself elemental so here
you are i couldn't write you pages but i made you, like, ten skies"
and isn't that enough and why must you always be queen of drama
like the two bees outside tussling over their small territory
it's like i'm forgiven when all i've forgotten is that my limits
are nowhere to be found it's like she gets off on restrictions and when
we tousle our hair it's for the lions not watching it's like i belong
in a small desert with a throne made out of my own tears and dirty
clothes and my hair all bumbled and buzzed and knotted
little faeries use it as ropes to knock some mystical back into me.