Author: Nick Ransom PM
I was in a foul mood. I'm actually quite proud of this.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Words: 273 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 2 - Published: 04-28-10 - Status: Complete - id: 2801701
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
" 1:13 AM"
With a throat full of broken glass,
I swallow hard
Swallow down my words, my thoughts
Everything you shove into me.
I have to admit, dear,
You've gotten this down to a fucking art.
Smoke in my eyes, lies in my brain
Rotting myself from the inside out,
Am I good enough yet?
Am I bad enough yet?
Explain to me sometime,
When not enough became too much,
When too good slid into worthless
When I became you.
Ah, the master of repitition,
My little broken record,
Scratching yourself again and again,
Wondering why there's blood on our bedsheets
Again and again.
You say you're used to it,
Tell me I'm violent,
Tell me I'm lovely,
Tell me I'm a fucking monster.
How about telling me the truth?
With a gut full of poison,
I'm vomiting out my thoughts again
Spitting on a page and calling it art,
My mouthpiece standing silent,
Hearing so overrated these days,
Speak to me only in touch.
In a language I know far too well.
Lie to me in violence,
Because somedays it's the only thing I do at all.
Call me a fucking liar,
Because it's the role I was born to play.
I am what you want me to be,
Who you want me to be
And when you make me it.
I crawl back to you on rusty nails,
Across still-burning embers,
Over ever fucking addiction
And it's still not enough.
I silence myself,
Speak my mind,
Edit my thoughts
And I'm still never enough.