by Gloria Pickens

Created on: October 04, 2009

I spill my heart into every lined page in my book, and every drop of brokenness comes down to this entry. The friendship I lack is my only savior. The lies and deceit I dig my grave in snap pain and insults at my tired, blistered hands, creating the failure I drown in daily. Thou art fair my love. May every word your hot breath murmurs come back and burn you alive in your conceited vanity. Your beauty is my pain. I am beautiful, you say. May the ashes of your lies choke you to your last breath. My eyes captivate you, you say. You may not make it out alive. You better pray loud to the god you proclaim yourself to be in your heart. Cry to me oh wounded and apathetic soul. And I will betray you as you've done to I. The only one left for you to turn to, your last resort. This razor that slides cleanly over your blue veins, turning your pale flesh into shades of red unknown to man.

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