we are violated angels
sick with anger and full of hate
with hands that have touched the dirtiest things
hearts that have loved the most foul minds
& lips that have spoken the worst of lies

you ride your bike all over my heart
as the line between us grows
faster than your curly hair
that you promised you’d never cut
there isn’t much to do but hope
that you never decide to cut the line
that’s holding us together
or the hair that won’t stop growing

You speak of your soul
As if it’s some piece of imagination
As if you never possessed the very thing that weighs you down at this moment
You lack the self depth, the self respect, to bring yourself to a higher place
And you blame it all on me.