(no subject)
who's leaving you and who's leaving me?
are you moving past these tales,
they are as tall as the only love
that you'll ever really know.
and yet who's leaving?
Grace is a gift for the fallen, dear.
your an angry blade and you're brave
but youre all alone.
Turning a shade of an angel born
in a fucking ditch when the doors
of heaven close.
The routine of this self infliction,
is the joy and comfort of my own repetition.
i feel love and it hurts.
"do you like to hurt?"
"I do, I do."
"then hurt me."
maybe i don't love.
No, i won't love, but i'll still write about it.
what have i been given and what i have used,
why do you cut me with your jagged knife?
the drama and drool, the blood you spill is the blood of a fool.
are you moving past these tales,
they are as tall as the only love
that you'll ever really know.
and yet who's leaving?
Grace is a gift for the fallen, dear.
your an angry blade and you're brave
but youre all alone.
Turning a shade of an angel born
in a fucking ditch when the doors
of heaven close.
The routine of this self infliction,
is the joy and comfort of my own repetition.
i feel love and it hurts.
"do you like to hurt?"
"I do, I do."
"then hurt me."
maybe i don't love.
No, i won't love, but i'll still write about it.
what have i been given and what i have used,
why do you cut me with your jagged knife?
the drama and drool, the blood you spill is the blood of a fool.