by Adam Moss

Created on: May 16, 2009

Wasting some time looking into the mirror,

Admiring your glow as I see it shimmer,

Blood drips down into the basin below,

Though it hurts this pain I will not show,

The water has grown pink and clouded,

With the hand towel my wrist is shrouded,

Hoping for the seeping blood to cease,

The razor blade went deep in this case,

You are my guide so now guide me,

Show me what you want me to see,

Allow me to set right your few wrongs,

Let's hope that this pain no longer prolongs,

Left behind to serve someone else's need,

That someone is now only making me bleed,

Noose around my neck, gun to my temple,

I hope that you cannot see me tremble,

Roll down my sleeves to cover the wounds,

Let's go outside and don't make any sounds,

No sudden movements just follow me please,

Tonight was cold and so too is the breeze,

You being forever cold you feel nought,

Though it feels as though by the cold I am sought,

Trying not to show weakness before you,

We step a little further and having no clue,

The grass is cold and wet beneath my soles,

You glide before me as one of the lost souls,

I can't help but wonder where you seek,

And so I come to wish that you could speak,

We could talk of the old times with a smile,

It would ease the pain if only for a while,

We could talk of the times we drove that truck,

The times when we'd be down to our last buck,

But we'd be happy cos Cobain was on the radio,

He'd be singing of Polly and we would know,

Sing along to every word that we had to show,

We didn't know much but we always said never mind,

It was just another day for which we can be kind,

Show a little love and show a little grace,

Try not to look at your former beautiful face,

That truck rolled over one fateful night,

Now we have to set all of that right,

You stop and turn at the fountain and I look around,

There is nothing here I gesture and not a sound,

But then you sweep your hand over to the water,

Wondering what is happening I think I'd ought to,

See what the problem is and see the matters,

Hoping fervently that nothing close shatters,

Praying ardently that I make no sound or start,

But then I look down into the water below,

And then suddenly realising I too now know

The wrong is me I am the one who has been left,

I am the ugly and I am the scarred who is bereft,

The one who was left behind and now so long ago

I seek further into the water and prepare for a welcome,

The lost has returned and why not see what he has become,

But no this cannot be right I see no light only flame,

And that is when I realise your cruel game,

And then finally you speak,

To me your voice seems to creak,

And with a twinkle in your eye,

You tell me to walk for a while,

To walk with you in Hell.

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