Thursday, September 2, 2010

just another sob story

the door slams--you're already gone
running down the street, without
a backward glance. here i stand, the tears,
i'm still inside this burning house.
i'm left inside this burning house. (Dig
deep into my world, my mind, what i hate
is only because i fear it. i fear what
could. become. my. world.) I
(just) fight the tension and the terrors--theyre
(gonna) pull me apart. How could I
(stand) it all without you by my side--always
(there?) I can't remember who i am
(and) what I thought i would be. I just
(watch) who I'm becoming. I dont recognize
(me). put me in the fire--would i go ahead and
(burn?) like a paper crane on your shoulder---
it's not alright with me. i hope it's not alright with me.

(I was your song... You were my... You were my..
you were my you were myyyy...

you were mine.)

it's not the nicotine that kills--it's the smoke. the smoke. the housefire. the running. the distance. the slow and steady burn.
when i find myself--there's only me.

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