I wish it didn’t taste so bitter on my tongue I wish I didn’t waste All the smiles proudly sung I wish I deserved you and could feel what I should feel I wish I didn’t unnerve you and could accept what is as real
I don’t want this pain Nor should you grow within it You shouldn’t know disdain Or this home I’ve created in it This roof is made of tomorrow Of many promises broken This bed holds cries of sorrow And words that should never be spoken
I’m sorry I am who I am And I can’t become un-me I’m sorry I can’t program A better life for you to see I won’t make up false stories because hope is an ugly affliction I won’t fill you with glories that show some shiny depiction
I will give you all that I hold Which may be little, but it is true Whatever you may be told Please know, I love you I wish those words held more Or overshadowed the lacking of me But I feel them to my core And giving you more is my only plea.
A peaceful interior – molded by erosion and feeling inferior to one with insides frozen – resides within her; She’s fullest when she’s empty.
The graceless girl – closing all the windows, frantically seeking your disappointment – she takes no enjoyment in the pain but it makes her feel she’s home, neighboring houses of acceptably sane.
Cracking the door, unhooking the chain You’re either outside or locked in to feel her within, to be forced to drown in her dead skin that she sheds unapologetically all over your fraudulent willingness to care. You could at least hold back her hair and ignore the vomit at your feet.