This blood on my hands, is it mine?
I quivered so expectantly in the dark corner only to get turned down again.
That is the kind of torture you like to inflict on me isn't it?
These invisible flames used to be so comforting but now they lick at my
elbows, drowning me in some secret desire.
Would it be easier for me to leave?
Is it easier to walk away from everything?
Would you believe me if I said I need something more than this?
Is it my fault that this happiness is fake?
What if I said I never changed.?
But the world did?
So if I walked away from you, would you think that I was a bitch?
If I tried to heal, would you laugh at me?
Why was I thrown into this mess so early?
How can I be expected to heal through a shattered pane?
The reflections are the things cutting at me now.
And you'll look in my eyes as I slowly break,
Wondering what could I have been made into.?
If I hadn't been broken first.
Poetry » Life Rated: T, English, Horror & Angst, Words: 189, Favs: 1, Published: 11/14/2004