misanthropia never felt so right...so justified.
I followed you blindly and look where it got me.
Stuck, facedown in the dirt and the sin.
The sounds I ignored surfaced as laughter and scorn.
When you swore it was only the wind.
Your mistake was removing my face from that veil.
And letting me see for myself.
You bade me to stand on these atrophied legs.
Now I'm walking without any help.
How should I write these words,
For them to mean anything to you?
Blood and ink are nothing new.
Oh God, My dear, it's true.
If the fire on their tongues is unfounded,
Then I owe you an appology.
Stuck, facedown in the dirt and the sin.
The sounds I ignored surfaced as laughter and scorn.
When you swore it was only the wind.
Your mistake was removing my face from that veil.
And letting me see for myself.
You bade me to stand on these atrophied legs.
Now I'm walking without any help.
How should I write these words,
For them to mean anything to you?
Blood and ink are nothing new.
Oh God, My dear, it's true.
If the fire on their tongues is unfounded,
Then I owe you an appology.