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I miss cold November days,
And snowy December skies,
I miss snuggling in a distant haze,
And watching the sun rise,
I long for your warmth in frigid nights,
Your hands to grace my body once more,
Nostalgic are the cities scattered lights,
With comforting thoughts of the one I adore.
I am so scared of you,
My darling angel,
I am so scared of the future,
I've try to stop it with every spell,
But I promise you this,
And I promise it well,
I will love you forever,
If the life inside me is real.
I promised to never sing so sadly,
But lately every tune seems off key,
Grasping onto the notes and chords,
Trying to unscramble melodic words,
But they all fall off the lines of the paper,
They swim in brew and pools of liquor,
I find myself crying out to some hopeless God,
But my wings are stained- his crown is flawed,
Tarnished by living in this mortal world,
Where the future is the past unfurled,
A struggle that ends in only one tragic way,
The closing scene to a calamitous play,
But no beast or man is in my scene, no, just I,
Placed here to abide to a life that was born to die.
I wish I could feel tired,
That I could finally fall asleep,
Let go of all these  memories that seem to keep,
Keep me awake in the darkest of hours,
As the pain in my heart slowly devours,
Reality and truth; innocence and youth,
How am I such a stone cold wall,
When on my sleeves, I bear it all,
I want to break free from this pale room,
To fly past the the smoke and menthol fumes,
But I am stuck captured in his arms,
A sucker for all his deceiving charms,
And I will never leave his heart,
It is my tortured, self depicting art.
I miss the pain,
The fire,
The self-destruction,
Their desire,

My weakness is my fragility,
My strength resilience,
My strength seeps into all weakness,

Now I am losing all ability,
There is no chance to pull though,
To push out of the dull pain,
No longer one of the select few,

I've dropped to the bottom of all holy things,
No clawing to the the top or even scraping the surface,
The weights become to heavy with the burdens it brings,

Alone again, alone in all this,
No saving hope; no faith in the risks,
I have been beaten by my own hands.
This was correlating to the pain (physical and emotional) that athletes go through during injuries that remove them from the things they worked to achieve.
There is no pretty way to hide these scars,
No makeup or dimly lit bars,
Could hide this sort of endless reality,
My ultimate and solitary frailty,
This inability to truly love.
My dearest heart,
Stop playing such childish games,
My mind's not good at remembering all these names,
I can't seem to keep track or understand,
Why you refuse to find a safe place to land,
You've dragged me in and out of danger,
You've put me in beds with almost strangers,
Made me wish I bit off my tongue,
And lets not forget every time you said "he's the one"
Had me let him put that stupid ring on my finger,
Now only his memories seem to linger,
So please, my dearest crazy heart,
In this time I am not allowed new love to start,
Keep straight and narrow; walk the line,
Allow me the strength to ultimately decline,
For you hold my reputation in your grasp,
Your essence stay present in his strong clasp,
Lead me not astray when you want to wander,
Don't stir up new feelings you love to conjure,
For I can not lose the grace I worked to fall in,
I can't not purify that sort of sin.
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