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by fallen Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Friendship · #1343660
Something I wrote about a girl...
As days turn to nights, can you feel how the cold night air invades your dreams?
Does the warmth of your covers shield you from the world?
And do you find solace in my absence?
The Sun will rise again and warm your everchanging world,
but I'm left stranded out in the dark,
clinging to every little bright spot that crosses my path.
Can you lend me a flashlight?

I'm drowning in a sea of regret and you just stand there smiling.
I guess when push comes to shove you put your weight into it.
Oh tarnished angel, hold my face to the dirt.
Hold it there until I stop breathing.
You've left me dangling on a thread, life support growing faint.
Won't you finish the job?

Here I am writing to you again,
I'm failing to make sense of it all again.
And if this pen runs low on ink, I'll tap my heart and finish writing in blood;
Just so you know, just so you know, everything.
Just so you can read about the scars you gave me,
and the stitches needed to close those gapping holes.
Twelve did the trick.

You were the rose sitting calmly on my window sill,
So beautiful and tranquil yet so dangerous to the touch.
I grabbed on with a death grip,
I bleed until I felt lightheaded.
I tossed you to the ground and trampled you,
I killed you out of spite,
Will a simple "sorry" suffice?

I was the poison in your veins,
no matter how hard you tried, I stuck around to kill you slowly.
The poison spread throughout your body,
is it difficult to breath when you're dying?
But your body adapted to your affliction,
it pinned me against the wall and beat me into submission.
Contraria contrariis curantur.

I'm trying to remember the good times,
But how can you remember something that was never there?
Led me to believe otherwise, how do you sleep at night?
Go on, come crawling back to me.
See if I'll give you a second of my time.
This is the end, the game's over.
You aren't the victor in this,
but if this is what winning feels like don't tell me what it feels like to lose.

I'm taking off my mask so you can see that nothing lies behind it.
And I think congratulations are in order, my dear.
You've nailed me so perfectly it hurts my wrists.
But this is a borrowed cross my dear.
I carried it down the long and bleak path,
I'm ready to pass it on to the next unfortunate soul to cross paths with you.

Won't you say those things to me again?
Let the world know what you think of me.
I meant nothing to you, I'm a loser. A fucking zero.
I have no direction, a sadistic asshole;
I'm better off dead, no future lies ahead for me.
But what makes you think you're any better?

Come live outside your tiny world, for just a day.
Do you not know that you're not the only one who can hurt?
If you cut me do I not bleed?
Why can't you see that you won't always get what you want?
The world is unfair, that's something you'll learn eventually.
Don't get lost in your exaggerated image of self-worth.
Being selfish never amounts to anything but misery.

P.S. You owe me fifty bucks.
© Copyright 2007 fallen (fallen9 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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