vices binding my soul; ever complying perfect obedience; never denying i'm silent no matter how terrifying i'm on the verge of tears but never crying my lungs only produce a quiet sighing i'm screaming final breaths but never dying and all the while my pain's intensifying my wings fledged and outstretched but never flying i try to speak but there's no point replying i'm done with all your endless justifying
you could've changed, but you're just never trying
the 11 syllables thing is part of the poem. you get lured into thinking it will flow nicely like an iambic pentameter, but then you reach the end of the line and you feel like you have to interrupt yourself to maintain the rhythm. that's because you do. that's how it's meant to be read. the interruption is part of the poem.
you can read this in multiple ways. either one person struggling against another, or two people arguing.
Thanks for something. Thanks for nothing. Thanks for all those words you said. Go to bed, you’ve said enough. You’re all out of luck and I’ve got nothing to say. Go away! Have a nice day. Peace be unto me.
Use the force in May, to make them change their mind, maybe. Little time left for you; time to be crazy. I’m not listening, no more a slave to ladies. Use a noun, not a name, hello Baby.
Left all sad at the end of a phone. Cut the line to the lies…leave me the Hell alone! I know you better and more than you would like me to believe, But babe please, don’t be a tease, Waving your love at me. If it ain’t real then it ain’t no-thing.
I feel like an old pair of trousers left in a drawer only brought out when you’re desperate cause you don’t want to be left naked vulnerable in your knickers better than nothing I don’t fit what you want anymore but you don’t fit me so let me be in my drawer I’ve got clothes for company they don’t wear me out whilst I keep them warm