Drip..
Once again I am struck by the realization that the ones I care for, erase me from their memory until they wish for something.
Always I float further and further from them and back into the corner I hide within
Drip..
This foreboding feeling strangles me, sealing off the exits as I'm forced to watch as the ones I used to call friends shift into strangers armed with all blades imaginable
Drip..
Their knives and swords cut deep, filling the small corner I hide in with beautiful, melancholy crimson.
I sink to the bottom of this vat of acid and am only ever lifted by one individual.
Drip...
I am pulled up like a daisy plucked from it's spot in the blistering sun surrounded by pavement layered with pity and lies.
I breathe in toxic air as it blesses my lungs with a horrid expression.
Drip...
Being pulled up and sinking down too many times for the mind to remember has made my blade dull and useless.
My nights are restless and filled with sorrow and selfish loathing of the one in the mirror.
And I awake to crimson once more.
