PlayBill

You left me heart in hand at the alter,
disappeared without so much as a word, nothing except the coldest shoulder.
While not even given any single
ounce of closure,
I lost it,
I lost my mind along with my composure.
Became a recluse, a pessimist, began living life like a lone wolf avoiding any and all human contact norms,
being sought out to be some type of mean spirited misanthrope.
But what more was I presumed to be,
I was living a life of misery without any real company.
Therefore not even my misery had anything to love, I was just empty and numb.
I was angry, furious, outraged.
I knew better,
but I still let u get the better of me as u left me with the absolute worst inside of me while you were just so sketchy about it and vague.
The world is nothing but a stage,
and I was second leading role with you playing first as I was just along for the ride paved with chaos and havoc down the line of intersections consisting of deceit and defeat where u crashed the car at a point in time, which by then we were just too far, and u had somehow put on the performance of a lifetime.

I have nothing left in this world to call my own,
no where safe enough to call my home.
All I really have is my writing stemmed from the thoughts
replaying on an endless loop inside my head.
I believe sometimes that when I write them down and create
that maybe it’s my one way to get them to escape.
My pain is truly stitched into each and every word.
I hope that they will one day possibly be seen, and I can
actually be heard.

Side by side we'd lie there every night as two broken individuals.
Two shattered lovers as equally broke as the broken bed on the floor.
Always you'd hold onto me while we sleep,
but we never sleep anymore.
Feeling up but not awake.
Existing but not alive.
Not sure how much more of this my heart can take.
I wanted a rehab,
not a funeral.
Seemingly somehow thats what I got,
as it turned out our love was now fatal without a single chance of survival or any hope for a revival.
Coming down feels like falling into an empty black abyss,
tell me how the hell am I supposed to live like this.
Like a fiend except craving not a substance but a feeling,
on another sleepless night as I'm lying here beside you starving.

You're so easy to admire,
but baby you're a phony and a pretty little liar.
The things that you see as beneficial to you
are all that you seek to acquire.
You don't want love.
You need love.
You need it as your tool for getting whatever
it is you see any current value in.
Truthfully it's fortune that is your actual desire.
Overall,
I guess you don't really even need any actual love
when it's lust, luxury, and powdery dust that
takes you so much higher.

Sometimes you just have to accept the things that you cannot change.
Like, you can compulsive lie your *** off but it still cannot change what is true.
They say that the truth is the
hardest pill to swallow,
so instead I crush it up and I snort it.  
Even if there were things that I could change I fear I'll just make it even worse,
so I mission abort ****.
I lack the ability to actually change me,
and my courage is cowardly.
I'm hopeless, but I really do hope
that things will hurt less.
I'm useless, but I don't think that
I'll ever use less.

If not this, then it would be that.
It's all relative Nonsense where overall
you were just another substance.
But who am I to deprive misery of
its love for company,
honestly how could I possibly
maintain stability and be granted
any serenity, when all that is
surrounding me and inside of me is constant insanity ?..

Yeah, it's called Drug Abuse,
but is the term "Drug Abuse"
and the overall meaning behind it
really that simple ?..
In which being limited to the technical bottom line meaning and stating that by doing drugs you are abusing those drugs.
Where in other words the users
are apparently the abusers of the drugs that they use,
but isn't it possible that the drugs
actually abuse us too ?..

The day will come that you find yourself stepping in that big unavoidable pile of **** that is completely made of the huge mess that you yourself have made.
I know when you finally do that it will haunt your dark black soul forever.
So keep flushing your meds down the toilet I guess you're right,
you don't need them.
You are someone who can't
possibly be saved,
because you don't want to be saved.

You can't turn back the hands of time,
or take back the hands in which you laid upon me to harm and cause me pain.
It's far too late.
You can't uncross the ultimate line in which you crossed with me.
Point those filthy fingers of yours towards the mirror right back at your own reflection when you're searching for someone
to blame, you've chosen your own
twisted fate.

I'll never be your's again baby girl.
Not to wrap your arms around to hold,
not to catch you all the times you fall,
not to talk you off the ledge that you so dangerously dance with death upon.
I will never again be any part of your ****** up world.

My shoulder will never again be the shoulder that bears all of your fallen
salty bitter tears.
Listening to all of your depicted fears and each and every one of your own self made problems will never again be either of my ears.

I do hope that there is some sort of help you one day find.
I just won't be the one who's there for you when everyone else leaves you behind.

I do hope that you find a way to keep your head above the waves and remain afloat.
I just won't be the one who jumps in to save you when your drowning and
pull you up onto my life boat.

I really do hope that one of the many days you are feeling helpless that you somehow find the strength to not resort to picking up a razor, pressing it against your skin  and making yourself bleed.
Because seriously I'm sorry but,
I won't be the one who's there to
interfere or to bandage up your self inflicted wounds.
Because I won't be there ever again,
so not even in your time of need.

I so badly do hope that you one day find the type of love that you need to find
within yourself.
I just won't be there to love you anymore myself.