Bleeding on the Pyre

Diminished hopes,
this distinguished flame still feels the singe
of your last, cold touch.
The flame, it’s gone, but that shadow remains; it
Whisps and swivels and floats up on high,
dwindling into the forgotten air.
Pain is false, there’s nothing inside it,
but it Burns, around and around,
taunting me, “You’re never what they want”…
Wonderless words lost on these ears,
An exchange so small and irrelevant,
but so strong!
I falsify and pretend,
I play the part and you watch, another part
in this pathetic charade!
Why do the candles burn?
Because I light them without thought.
And why are they extinguished?
Because you force me from my hallucinations.
Oh, why do I fall, and involve myself
Too deeply, knowing how it will end?
For, it’s never any different, and
each time I play, lose myself and
fall down into the mud,
I convince myself that it’s so real…
Though oblivious you are,
Every single time.
And I just end up losing
Another little, insignificant piece.
I laugh;
Until I realize, this self sickening sabotage,
This hooked knife I plunge into myself,
Will forever whisper to me in my
Darkest Moments, and say,
“You are never what they want”.

So I will stop trying.
I will save my smiles,
I will stop this delusion,
I will suffer my insanity,
And I will convince myself that
it is impossible to be hurt without a heart to bleed,
And place it into regression.

Small heart, I shall say,
why do you not beat?
And it shall answer,
Because I am saving your life.