Sell me Pocahontas
She is only seventeen
Paid in full for a painted skull
And a million apple trees

Guide me, native spirit
Teach me how to speak
To tell them why they have to die
And why they're so weak

Pocahontas, come with me  
Take my hand and you'll see

The land of fallen glory
Of courageous family men
Fought for truth and killed the youth
After we called them friends

Pocahontas, come with me  
Take my hand and you'll see

Listen to my promise
This is my desire
Just sign the line and close your eyes
As I set your home on fire

It's not that I'm cold
That I'm heartless
Or ignorant.

For one thing,
My passion for life
Burns bright enough to warm
My whole being,
My mind and soul.

For another,
I am heartless
Because a certain someone
Ran off with it
Yet I still care
For certain things

And lastly,
I'm not ignorant
At least, not fully.

I just selectively ignore
Those who are not worth more
Than a warning

So here's one:
Back off

.

He doesn't realise...
The weight of his actions and words that pummel her to the ground.
Beating her down for every time she rises up to undo his ropes with which she's bound.

He doesn't see...
Past the darkened lenses that she dons.
She wears them,
not to shield her pride that was wrongfully taken,
but to protect him from the repercussions that would come with accusatory speculations.

He doesn't know...
Of the soaked pillow that accompanied her.
The rivulets of tears...
She had quietly shed without a whimper.

He doesn't hear...
The silent altercation between the treasure that beats in her chest and the thing that thinks in her head.
The struggle that ensues when the mind tries to rescind what the heart had wholly given and carelessly said.

He doesn't care...
To think of the devastating waves that come.
Only to erode the last bastion of hope she nurtures...
This frail wall that she prays for nightly.
Just so that it would hold up through another day's endeavour.

He doesn't feel...
The need for empathy.
For he thinks that he's god with one devout follower.
He commands her loyalty with his deluded testaments
and his fists as sceptre.

She doesn't live...
To see future suns.
For her day finally set when it all came down.
The wall she had feebly held together with her life...
Easily gave way when he came at her armed with a knife.

.

For over two years, every day, I've dreamt of dying. Historically, I've always hated change but I'd certainly consider killing for some now.