My sliver shiny hero,

Eats deep into my soul,

Reinstilling hope?


Yes, pain,

He cuts pass the barriers,

Letting infection settle deep into wounds,

Long wrought by years of abuse,

He wraps my heart in oozing bandages,

Promising a cure within this lie,

When really he screams:

"Die, You wretched scum,

Your time here is done."

I lie in filth,

While rats munch on my corpse,

Though he still promises me recovery,

When really he screams:

"Let the infection settle,

Gruesome will be your wounds,

The smell rotting flesh,

Will be your only company,

Your company in death."

A countless sum have let me down,

He isnt any different,

Though I chose him,

For he is my self-medication,

For he is my self-death,

My silver shiny hero,

Is nothing but a villain,


Manipulative in his ways,

For though he promises to save me,

He's only here to maim me,

To kill the living dead,

To end this nothing girl.

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2 Responses Mar 4, 2010

Do not be sorrow for your poems. poetry is that from the heart. youhave experienced much pain. No one but you knows the depth of your heart. yet i seem to understand thru reading this...but truth still remains. I could never understand the extent of your pain.

=( Aw honey....*hugs*