not the first time i've fallen
but my final time trying
my lungs have been swelling
from all the deep diving
into your bottomless eyes
that i've been drowning in before
and your remorseless sighs
impatience i somehow adored
i've slammed all doors: front, back, trap, closet
done and dusted, once and for all, closed it
after all the leeways given, i'm now signing out
by the thought of two and half years of your pout
that you're with me, a gasbag with all its air out
what the hell are you on
and what you going on about
that the only things you doubt
is your emotional blackout
and the lies i've sniffed out?
lying down, lying back,
doesn't matter how you're reclining
you need a spine to decline
from the truth you're denying
i feel for the next person listening
to the things you'll be recycling
if they're buying what you're selling
the 'tortured soul' you're advertising
the bubble will burst for them too,
unfortunately for you;
there's no way you'll last long
you're no knight in shining armor
you imagined yourself as all along.
z
2016-11-30
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