#poeteryisnotdead
You came to me with powdered knuckles,
you knew it was my poison.
You were raised on horse
so we thought,
'This won't be a problem.'
It feels like the sound
Of a million angels singing.
Doubts explode in the brain,
but the high makes you ignore them.
I knew I had to be stronger
than the last time that I slipped.
I handled my ****
finished the manuscript,
but you just kept exceeding.
I always knew compassion
would one day be my downfall.
You filled your nose,
hid new hoes
And I just kept abiding.
Losses began to trickle in.
You saw you weren't so hard.
To be honest
From what I've witnessed
None of the gangsters are.
I caught you in a tryst
while lies bled from you lips.
Panic attacks and shiny blades
returned to being my usual ways.
I warned you from the start,
but bulls rarely listen.
The lines crossed you
and you felt used.
Shameful, you grew twisted.
Torn and mangled,
Depleted and abused-
Here's to forsaken me
and my nameless muse.
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 8:29 AM UTC