But it is never gone
Walk away
And it leads you astray
But it builds up inside
And it creates an uproar
Be silent
But it afflicts a torment
Open the door
And you are not the same to them anymore.

If it can be erased
To simply be thrown in the waste
If it can be changed
Have every piece magically arranged
If it can be undone
Begin a new tale of mirth and fun.

There is nothing lyrical
Nor hymnal or whimsical
On writing such poetry
Whatever depth, however the degree
Nothing rhythmic, nothing poetic
Only words that make one weak and sick
It is pure and absolute pain
No tenderness, nothing humane
Fraught with grief, anguish, and fear
Of your scoff, scorn, and sneer
Left alone drowning in shame
Asking, screaming... who is to blame.


Sylphy Sylphy
41-45, F
1 Response Feb 12, 2012

Whacking words, sweet... uhmmm... I'm not really sure who and what you are right now *scratches head*<br />
<br />
But thank you *squishy hugs*... this is better than the other one... (from your line) *methinks*...