Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2011
It hurts to be your pain,
Apologies made in vain,
I'm a whispered shout,
We're not the same,
I know you want out.

My fists are bloodied,
But I think it's kind of funny,
How in our aftermath of our storm,
It always comes out bright and sunny,
With emptied burdens,
Broken hearts,
Healing wounds,
A new start.

I know I ain't what I used to be,
I know it's hard to look at what you see,
Believe me,
The mirror ain't my friend,
The cracks in my reflection start to bleed,
And I can't help but feed,
The wound for the swoons,
The high that supplies our fuel,
The tool that destroys me from the inside,
And I'm not surprised,
I can't lie,
It's feels good to feel bad,
To see you sad,
And know it's me,
It's control,
It ain't right but you see,
It's all I've had and I know it's sad,
You've every right to be mad,
But I'm here in bloodied clothes to let you know that I'm glad,
That you stayed by my side,
Through every fight and every lie,
I couldn't say that if you left I'd be surprised.

Just know my heart's a masterpiece,
Manic morbid sadomasochistic malevolence,
Vivid violence,
Silver silence,
Simple mystery,
I believe,
My heart's a masterpiece.
Written by
Micheal Bevan
1.1k
   Sajini Israel
Please log in to view and add comments on poems