One, two, three
Mess
The milk
Went off
In about a day
But the smell
The horror of it all
Makes it feel like it's been off for years
Even when you threw it away,
You brought it back in to haunt me
To make me throw it away
I
Will never do
what you
want
Two can play at the manipulation
Bring it back
Because you know I don't like it
And neither do you
But you cope with the pain
To see me unhappy
But it's an excruciating game
Who will crack first
And throw all of it away
It's not going to be me
Because if it's me
You'll win
I'll never let you win
Make the empty threats
To bring out even more spoilt milk
To make me crack faster
Like an egg
You make those threats
To
Ruin my life
But I'm the only one
Who'll actually go through with this
Tell me to kill myself
You'll wind up dead
I win
What do I win?
I win at your game
This stupid little game
You made up
Because you're bored with life
All you want to do is hurt people
So why shouldn't I hurt you?
YOU ARE READING
Bonded With Tears (7)
PoetryA poetry book. A semi-story based loosely on real life events, mainly my emotions amplified on paper. Also linked to the idea of homelessness.
