Tainted
When you grasped my hand,
You took me places I'd never been,
I saw the sky,
Through different eyes,
Through moonless night I ran,
Stranger's dreams filled my head,
A summer of hope and dread....
There was a world I'd hoped to find, and still do, someday... this part of the poem will always be unfinished, though, because I couldn't admit how I felt then, and I can't now, because the time and the chance passed by long ago, and I think a part of me knew even then that it just wasn't meant for me.
YOU TOOK THIS ALL AWAY FROM ME,
I don't know how else to be,
Can't understand a fucking thing,
That has anything to do with happy,
Time ticks by so fast sometimes. Friends die before you can really apologize to them for the way you wronged them; before you can tell them you love them. You lose other friends through mistakes and very poor judgement. Lovers come, and lovers go, and none of them ever quite feel the same as the one who first made you feel love. Filler. For a gap. Like caulk, but so less adequate.
I just can't seem to escape,
Not one fucking person can relate,
Blood on my hands,
I'm crushed and desolate,
So you learn to smile. You learn to push back the pain, because letting anyone else see it is a weakness (Weakness is for failures. Failure is for those who are weak), and assholes have learned how to make the followers laugh at you for it. Like those old high school cliques, only now they are "adults." Rejection, failure, loss of direction, leading to an overwhelming dose of apathy.
These walls are crumbling down,
Rending my flesh by the pound,
Bleaching my bones,
Rotting my soul,
Killing me whole,
I have no blanket to keep me off the ground,
Memory stains the present. You remember the sort of things you know others must forget, because no one can relate. No one can understand it. A sunset. A comic book. Forgiveness. The secret weapon. Don't you think we've become more than friends?
If I hadn't thrown you away,
If you hadn't blown me away,
If you ever see me again,
Would you tell me secret weapon?
If you weren't so fucking afraid,
Of a person who loved to love more than get laid,
What reason then for this rage,
These terrible demons consume me,
It doesn't matter, though, really. I've managed to trick myself, you see, with that now cliche adage, "If it was meant to be, it would have been." Then, of course, comes the ever-ready response of my intellect: "Bullshit."
Better to have loved and lost?
I'd rather never loved at all,
My soul is stained,
And I am simply not well
You took me places I'd never been,
I saw the sky,
Through different eyes,
Through moonless night I ran,
Stranger's dreams filled my head,
A summer of hope and dread....
There was a world I'd hoped to find, and still do, someday... this part of the poem will always be unfinished, though, because I couldn't admit how I felt then, and I can't now, because the time and the chance passed by long ago, and I think a part of me knew even then that it just wasn't meant for me.
YOU TOOK THIS ALL AWAY FROM ME,
I don't know how else to be,
Can't understand a fucking thing,
That has anything to do with happy,
Time ticks by so fast sometimes. Friends die before you can really apologize to them for the way you wronged them; before you can tell them you love them. You lose other friends through mistakes and very poor judgement. Lovers come, and lovers go, and none of them ever quite feel the same as the one who first made you feel love. Filler. For a gap. Like caulk, but so less adequate.
I just can't seem to escape,
Not one fucking person can relate,
Blood on my hands,
I'm crushed and desolate,
So you learn to smile. You learn to push back the pain, because letting anyone else see it is a weakness (Weakness is for failures. Failure is for those who are weak), and assholes have learned how to make the followers laugh at you for it. Like those old high school cliques, only now they are "adults." Rejection, failure, loss of direction, leading to an overwhelming dose of apathy.
These walls are crumbling down,
Rending my flesh by the pound,
Bleaching my bones,
Rotting my soul,
Killing me whole,
I have no blanket to keep me off the ground,
Memory stains the present. You remember the sort of things you know others must forget, because no one can relate. No one can understand it. A sunset. A comic book. Forgiveness. The secret weapon. Don't you think we've become more than friends?
If I hadn't thrown you away,
If you hadn't blown me away,
If you ever see me again,
Would you tell me secret weapon?
If you weren't so fucking afraid,
Of a person who loved to love more than get laid,
What reason then for this rage,
These terrible demons consume me,
It doesn't matter, though, really. I've managed to trick myself, you see, with that now cliche adage, "If it was meant to be, it would have been." Then, of course, comes the ever-ready response of my intellect: "Bullshit."
Better to have loved and lost?
I'd rather never loved at all,
My soul is stained,
And I am simply not well