Lying, dieing, living hell
Wanting, needing, denying the swell
What I live on
What I’ll die on
Is the very same shoulder
That I cry on
Like a slip of a razor
The trigger on a gun
The smallest motion
Yet it will kill
Pull the trigger
Out comes the knife
Smallest motion
Ends
Smaller lives
I can’t control
And can’t deny
What truly lives
On the inside
Like a love story
Tragic as can be
I won’t kiss her
She can’t kiss me
Upon the night
That we happened to meet
She fell knee deep in love with me
And, Oh, I truly can’t deny
I loved her more
Than I could possibly despise
This instinct within the deepest corners of my eyes
She shouldn’t know
She shouldn’t see
And yet she shouldn’t even be with me
But she already knows
She already sees
Already fears
What is really me
For there is no changing
What I am born
No changing the family
In which I am adorned
And so the love story goes on
Like the tragic tale, Sir Romeo
Though I fear I shan’t get my Juliet
For I cannot die
At my lovers lips…
 Pressure Sensative · Sat Mar 08, 2008 @ 06:27am · 0 Comments |
