4-25-17
Burn my pride,
I don't have time for this.
I can lay it all out
But what's been done,
Is done,
I don't have time to hear the songs wrong.
I've been a snake at the bottom,
I'll be a snake at the top,
Because when you make it,
You're just using what you're taught,
I said I've seen snakes,
Slithering from the cracks in the mirror,
Light catching in the black
Space between,
Bouncing like laser light.
You rose from the shell of me,
But I shed it off,
On questions I never asked-
All of them should've just spilled,
All of me should've just spilled,
And maybe you could've done it, too,
But we didn't tip the scales,
And that's what I miss the most.
I miss that you weren't too much,
But God fucking damn it,
You were enough.
You weren't the after party,
You weren't even the magic of a night,
You were the missing piece,
The missing set of eyes,
Because you should be viewing this, too.
I'll leave this place,
For city walls of stone,
Built high,
In a place where it rains.
The moss almost lights up,
And palm trees line the edges.
There are skyscrapers on the inside, I've been told,
But I've already found religion
In the whisper of walls,
From the outside.
And I'm on my knees,
Chained to a memory,
Just to feel like a saint here.
I'd be lying if I told you I didn't love it,
But I'd be lying if I told you I wanted to see the insides of it,
Because my lungs still haven't released you.
I'll leave this place.
Finalize this muse you've made of yourself,
I can feel it dragging down,
Slowly scraping and losing grip.
Youll let go soon enough,
And as for me,
I'll be in some city,
Digging my way to dirt,
But don't you dare think I've lost the roots.
I'm sick of making a fool of myself,
Coming across in ways you shouldn't see,
Because I stand for a lot of things,
Just not this.
But I'd stand for you,
If you tell me it'd be enough.
It's closing time, for a lot of things,
And I'm not even drunk on you like I want to be,
But I'll order another shot
Just to see how you feel going down.
I'm a snake,
But trust me,
Because you've just gotta see me through,
My hands may not be clean,
But why the fuck am I digging,
And what am I looking for?
⁃ (m.m)
YOU ARE READING
Self Deception
PoesíaPoetry 2017 And if I burn out in a fit of psychosis, remember me as a young god, with that smile made of daggers, even if I was the most dangerous thing you could've touched. Perhaps all that danger comes from the multiple personalities, but all I...
