Prescription Pain Relief

You love me only on grey mornings
When the fog makes you feel alone;
And you love me only on dark nights
When nobody's at home.

The bitter irony is that
Your blood is my blood,
And my blood is yours,
And so on,
Yet you seem to have no trouble
In forcing me to bleed.

I don't need a lesson
In how to bleed.
I need a lesson
In how to sew wounds back together
Again.

Because you have an agile knack -
A proclivity, if you will -
For ripping apart my skin
And stretching out my every sin,
Just so you can have your fill
Before my very eyes.

And then you add a few stories
Of your own,
And before long,
I am the villain.

I am the betrayer
Who cut and left you.
I am the poison
That flows right through you.
I am the whisper
Tearing you apart from the insides.
And I am the enemy,
Carrying you away with the tides
To fight.

According to you,
At least.

Really,
I am the crutch
You lean on and discard.
I am a smashed glass
And the blood on every shard.
I am the pillow
You pound to feathers with your fist.
And I am your alibi
For every crime on your list.

And I am so fucking sick
Of being all of those things,
But never a name or a face
Or a soul.

No I am just the drug you take
To make yourself feel whole.

Well maybe your prescription
Has long been overdue,
And maybe now I'll learn
Not to renew it for you.