Their portrait just arrived and their smiles
digitally mock me...
how can it be true that a year can warp
your soul and make you believe
I'm the skyscraper meant for a breakdown.
Is it just me? Is it just you?
Because I feel paranoid when I let
the rage tingle through my hands
as I become more worthless.
I know you never used me
but I trusted what I thought would remain-
and you changed, watching me
spin, spin as I skidded
into flames from your cold eyes.
Caring so much about your reputation,
as everyone drew closer to my neck
and whispered, "you're an embarrassment
to a girl like her."
You toured me until I recognized
you were not piloting your own life.
The aviator never in distress,
planning a wordless attack.
My ashes never calmed myself
but do they appease you?
-
Written 7/23/13 @ 12:47 AM just a free write/rant
