Jun 21, 2007 00:24
so now this part starts, the part i said i couldn't i wouldn't do,
the part that makes me sick with loathing
for myself
for wanting to hate you
for speaking to hurt you
for making our hearts into battlegrounds
and our passions into mines;
the last things that should ever be our weapons,
now we go there
we pull them out
we throw
we push
these deadly leaden weights
into the places we know the best
with designs to hurt the worst
but the words just fall and just keep falling
on our bloodstained path
while my mind screams its protests, even "please"
and so i steel my nerve
to maintain this coward's battle
oh we are sick and broken bodies
and these hearts, our prisoners of our war,
i only hope we find a way to find them again.