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Get angry and let all the lies wash
over your mind, the confusion that comes
with being near me.
Smash the lies out of me until an apology
escapes in the form of crimson splatters against
bruised knuckles. Do it. It doesn't hurt as
much as the words and cold stares do.
I've gotten used to it anyway.
Rejection, depression, rejection, depression.
A cycle set on Repeat in my mind, and it's
not one that's easily switched off.
It's only been three days. Three days.
If no-one heard me cry, then does that mean
I can pretend I never did? Maybe.
If you did that to me first, then does that
mean I shouldn't feel guilty? Of course.
If he was the one who started it, does that
still mean I'm guilty? Yes.
I slipped down the wrong path again, I'm sorry,
I've become what I promised myself I wouldn't.
Can I be someone else?
Someone else who didn't make all my mistakes.
Someone who can tell the difference between
love and hate.
Greyscale temptations led me to see the truth
in you, the trust that was a mere mirror to hide
the confessions.
One day. Two days. Three days.
Lies start to slink from my mouth, just to
get rid of the fiery grip you have on my mind.
Or maybe the cold grip he has on my body.
I can't tell the difference.