In Pieces No Letter No Note
Lights out.
This is my final ill-wish.
And I hope you get buried with it.
And yes, I will.
Yes, you can tell me when I’m in unforgiveness up to my
neck.
Disappointed.
But we move on.
We hold on.
Only to bend our backs like snakes to shapes we never
wanted.
But we were born for this.
And I panic every time.
My mind is restless.
But I’m all right.
Oh, these lies we tell ourselves.
Who is on my side?
I am left alone with the beating of my heart in the
center of the earth,
And hatred is the most passionate form for love, and I
still have that in spades, forever, lights out.