It is Us
(This piece I started writing a few months back and finished then but didn't type it up until now. I actually don't hate this piece and I (unbelievably) actually really liked how it started out but still don't think it's perfect...)
It is Us
Drag it through dirt and then I hear you call my name.
Weren’t we equally agreed in how over we’ve been?
Wasn’t it obvious you broke and I can’t stand your game?
It was thrown away long ago and it’s better left in the rain.
Don’t go fluttering around as if your touch can fix what it has broke-
You’re not the one meant to walk this road;
So give it up to truth and leave your lies unheard.
I won’t try this again, with how little its worth.
Push it around until it can’t find its way up,
But you’re a glutton for the fun so on its mangled feet it’s propped.
Why can’t you leave it when there is nothing for it to become?
Keep your own honor and let me escape this place now that it’s gone rotten.
You shove it on pins and needles when it’s already defiled and shamed.
There must be something wrong with your memory since you had chosen not to stay,
But here you come back to stand where you wish to decorate.
It can’t be cleaned, purified, or erased and rewritten so waste your efforts in some other place.
Drag it through dirt and then, again, I hear you call my name.
Do you really expect an answer as it shrivels on the floor?
There’s nothing here to mend, no cure that’d even work.
It has crumbled and the rain will wash it away soon, so let’s not do this any more.
It is Us
Drag it through dirt and then I hear you call my name.
Weren’t we equally agreed in how over we’ve been?
Wasn’t it obvious you broke and I can’t stand your game?
It was thrown away long ago and it’s better left in the rain.
Don’t go fluttering around as if your touch can fix what it has broke-
You’re not the one meant to walk this road;
So give it up to truth and leave your lies unheard.
I won’t try this again, with how little its worth.
Push it around until it can’t find its way up,
But you’re a glutton for the fun so on its mangled feet it’s propped.
Why can’t you leave it when there is nothing for it to become?
Keep your own honor and let me escape this place now that it’s gone rotten.
You shove it on pins and needles when it’s already defiled and shamed.
There must be something wrong with your memory since you had chosen not to stay,
But here you come back to stand where you wish to decorate.
It can’t be cleaned, purified, or erased and rewritten so waste your efforts in some other place.
Drag it through dirt and then, again, I hear you call my name.
Do you really expect an answer as it shrivels on the floor?
There’s nothing here to mend, no cure that’d even work.
It has crumbled and the rain will wash it away soon, so let’s not do this any more.