My heart is a pin cushion.
Various people have stuck needles
into it; but that's its purpose.
That's the good part.

The bad part, you see,
is when the needles are taken out.
I no longer have a meaning,
and I no longer feel loved
or useful.

Because what is a pin cushion
without needles?
I've got the holes
where they once were,
but that is all I have.

My heart is a petty, scarred
little pin cushion.
And there aren't any needles in sight.

(d.d.b)

The realness of it all
just
hits me.

My *******,

could be what most
definitely
ends we.

My love,
I am a bomb...
waiting to tick.

the ring on a grenade,
wanting to click.

I understand you don't want me to go That's fine.
But I can't watch you dig through your car
For money for tonight's numbing.
You can't call me names
And still call me your daughter
And just because you offer me a cold one
Doesn't mean I'm playing your game.
I tried to give you a chance to prove
That your words were worth an ounce of truth
You may have been sober for months
But it's been two weeks of slurred speech
And several days of you
Not leaving that door
For anything more than a bottle.
Why the **** would I want to stay?
You keep saying that
No one here will hurt me
Too late dad, you've made your mark
In the form of six packs and cruel words.
I was better off without you for 10 years.
You have never been daddy.