you think i'm an empty notebook,
you toss me on your table,
the wind blows through your window,
revealing my off-white pages
with blue and black inked,
and smudged spots like the ripples on the ground formed by drizzle,
but you're not looking
you write in me too,
but you don't read back,
and i'm on the couch where you fight with your dad,
drunk and lifeless-
he open his beer; his motive purely to drown himself in it,
but slurring and shaking; he drentches me with it
his cigar,
gulping down the poison he lights his cigar,
but he's shaken by you and lighter falls on me,
and you fight without looking towards me,
abuse and ignorance spreads in apartment number 09,
the smoke reaches your nose,
and you realise i'm the real demon;
i burn myself and burn everything that ever belonged to you
