You spout once again, a ham-handed lie,
which stutters and stumbles from your lips.
But my dear, never again will they feel mine.
Uncontrollable rage shudders through my body,
Anger pulsates quickly through my veins,
turning my blood to lava
I am the radiator of fury.
I feel the power rushing to my hand
and it explodes, hitting your face,
my eruption throwing you to the ground,
teaching you your place.
I am no puppet,
no longer can you mould, manipulate, mangle my mind.
And there lies a beautiful burn on the side of your face.
It still glows with my fire.
No amount of water can put it out.
I never loved you.
But I love the mark I left.
It's a shame no one called the ******* collectors,
they left your mouth beside the pavement.
Nov 7, 2010
Nov 7, 2010 at 7:06 AM UTC
You spout once again, a ham-handed lie,
which stutters and stumbles from your lips.
But my dear, never again will they feel mine.
Uncontrollable rage shudders through my body,
Anger pulsates quickly through my veins,
turning my blood to lava
I am the radiator of fury.
I feel the power rushing to my hand
and it explodes, hitting your face,
my eruption throwing you to the ground,
teaching you your place.
I am no puppet,
no longer can you mould, manipulate, mangle my mind.
And there lies a beautiful burn on the side of your face.
It still glows with my fire.
No amount of water can put it out.
I never loved you.
But I love the mark I left.
It's a shame no one called the ******* collectors,
they left your mouth beside the pavement.
AW
This poem is for Charlotte Greenstock.
But it is not about her, it's about an ex-boyfriend. :D
