There isn't really much of a poem
Just a couple of lines or so that depict how stupid I feel, how weak I am, and how naïve I've become
To be used, chewed, and spat back out
Given to another to have it done all over again
How did that saying go?
Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, thrice is a pattern?
Well, let's hope a third doesn't appear.
It's bad enough I was used as sloppy seconds.
I suppose some apples don't fall too far from the trees they surround themselves with.
Some things aren't sad
They aren't painful or grievous
Perhaps they're just stupid
Like, it's baffling to even admit
How could something so idiotic...
Just slip past your senses?
I grasp onto the gasps and awe of some stranger
I do it all reckless, and so unafraid by this danger
I tango with the early hours and my own ***** mind
I beg for more from the phone screen I hide behind
I play with these loose holds and these unattached strings
I play with their pleasure, revel in the way they moan and sing
I validate my own worth through this self I display
I almost don't recognize the person on my mirror today
I spiral down a dark and never-ending abyss of grappling with addiction after addiction, vice after vice
I wish to wipe my hands clean of what I knew
I've learnt what capabilities I have, and I've been traumatized
I don't care if the cycle is starting to repeat once more
I want to do things differently and finally save my own soul
Because the biggest capability I've found within myself
Is the power to wash away what I once known
It was my thing. It was our thing.
I'm not ready to share it with the world.
I want it to stay my thing. Our thing.
She's a little tired, a little cold
She feels a little empty in her soul
The room spins in his roundabout ways
He keeps her on edge most of the day
She's a little tired, a little sick of the ride
He thinks it's due to him not being able to hide
But that's not the case, let her make herself clear
She didn't want you there, she wanted you here
Her lips felt heavy with words unsaid
She felt like crying as she left him on read
It's when he is happy that she feels sad
And that in itself was what made her feel bad
It wasn't not being told or not being in the band
It was simply her desire to hold his hand
Last night, you asked me what I was afraid of
And under the stars and the influence of sin
I refused to confess
I was afraid of you