Why would you want this **** in your life she asks I ask myself the same question constantly. Yet I reply ....the same reason anyone keeps anything they love in their lives. Even if it hurts.
The game is not a foot It is a hand And it is waving goodbye Or hello Depending on which direction we face I wear so many faces I catch it coming and going.
Thank you for never keeping a single promise you ever made. Thank you for making me feel Horrifyingly inadequate thank you for making me feel heaven Showing me a picture of forever And then robbing me blind
My heart is not a warm blanket to be put away when done with. I am not a puddle of sad water to be played in with delight Only to go home and wash off with the hottest water possible.
Thank you for abandoning me at my worst Arguably my best The hand can't say anything if I remove all its fingers The game is then just a ****** stump there will be no playing.
The only way to win the game Is to not play it at all. Yet this is still a very calculated maneuver. Thus I cannot escape. I cannot get out I am lost. only to find myself staring blankly into a room full of shattered mirrors