You keep pushing her down
even though she rises above
the mountains of lyric with a breath,
how do you expect her to reply
when you rip open eyes and stitch lies.
You create demeaning melodies
to accompany, yet all this time
you are the only lead in a demented mind.
Her own song is pinned with faults,
miscarried smiles that bruise,
swearing you actually feel for her.
All you have ever felt is sick power,
as if you could ever pick up shards
already breaking through substance.
I wait for her to run from your combat,
entering weightless relief.
Author notes
Prompt 1: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6Ux6SlOE9Qk The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus - Face Down
