Inject me with the truth Let your words sting Like foolproof needles Piercing me through Straight to the chest I'd still feel the pain Before this heart goes numb From pumping out the lies That invaded its veins.
My heart is a labyrinth, A cage of my own making; Den of demons tamed, Empire of uncrowned kings. Built over a precipice Of dead infatuations, Forsaken nostalgia, And ruined vanities. To trap a beast yet again, I visited its familiar walls; Gladly I lost my self And paid a high toll; Only to save my soul. Not long did I linger Within the hollow chambers; Echoing broken lullabies, Sung in refrains of lies. I stormed the champion's gate, And marched toward east, Where the sun does not rest, At the cry of a thousand dawns; But rather from the silence, Of my war-torn chest.
I cursed my summer storms And it poured down the whole sky On me, heavily. I keep dragging these horses Down the raging river but they wouldn't Drown quietly. I watched the tides kiss the shore Washing her tears away only to say Goodbye, repeatedly. I tried deserting this sinking island Trapped in midnight sunsets But it wouldn't let me.
I started digging my own grave But the sands keep receding towards My inner gravity. I went deeper until I found a well Brimming with cold truths and bitter Memories. I began staring at my own reflection Until I saw my soul skin and Bones, hungry. In this lonely oasis I brought myself Back from the dead into this Barren reality.
I stopped looking for water And let my heart bleed a fountain of Pure clarity. I embraced the restless winds To change the course of my own Fate, tirelessly. I scattered my broken pieces And they flourished in the land with Rare beauty. I once dreamed of sailing the seas But now I'm swimming in the ocean Of endless possibilities.
Yesterday's bread, tough as leather Pressed and scorched in the broken toaster A trip to ****, just a little bit quicker As the molds are killed to make it taste better At the cost of turning brittle and bitter.
Open the lid so greasy and loose Of the peanut butter jar too old and reduced Hiding in the shelf, alone and overused Screaming for jelly but doesn't come in two's About two-thirds empty and a complete recluse.
Pull the drawer and grab the butter knife Pointless and jagged, it gave up on life Poke the insides and dig with a gripe Spread the loot so scarcely in stripes Place the other half in one crooked swipe.
You were singing the blues when I met you, Singking your heart of misrule, Into an ocean of second thoughts. The saddest note on your table; A pen unwilling to write, Its ink afraid to swirl.
I took the seat in front of you, As I opened my soul like a blank page. Your hand began scribbling again, Writing our next days with better hues. Until you decided that my page was full, That there's not enough space for your stories.
Now I'm stuck with these scripts of red, With your handwriting all over it. These traces of broken promises and misgivings, I'll try to erase it all or rip it out. As I open a new sheet to another stranger You play your songs of blues again.