-poem i wrote- kinda blah- oh well, i like it.-
I don't care if I'm content.
I could buy the sun
with all the happiness you've given me.
But the sun goes away each night
and as you undress me, you can see all the scars
and although you never ask,
I know you want to know.
All these stumbling nights, holding my hair,
keeping off the lights in the mornings,
never giving me a reason except for
the fucked-up ones I invent in my dizzy head.
Meanwhile the days are spent in the smiles
and I don't know what to do with myself
because I haven't felt this in so long and
it wasn't as great as I thought it was then.
Maybe I'll spend forty-five months lost,
not knowing anything about myself
except that I want to fucking kill you.
I probably should have warned you,
told you to stay as far away as possible,
but then my head fell over my heels and
it's so hard to get up although
all these substances are helping to keep me here.
I completely deserve this and
I wish you'd leave me
so I could play the role of the heartbroken
and I could have a better excuse.