Why Did You Think This Was A Game

Choking on what you call love,
While you’re soaring up above,
Your empathy bullets in my chest,
Bleeding out and you lecture me,
How I didn’t do my best.

Is the knife in my gut not enough,
For you to look up from your paper cut,
Claiming to be controlled by strings,
Everybody else to blame for your sins.

Every time it’s your turn to apologise,
Somehow always the victim,
Forgetting it was you who rolled the dice,
I believed it when you said I was the reason,
For the tears in your eyes.

Wanting to be worshipped for the smallest things,
No one else allowed to spread their wings,
Remorse is just a hollow word for you,
Not something you ever have to do.

I held on to the believe that somewhere deep inside,
You cared for me, everytime I cried, I died,
In the end there’s no room for me,
You never even tried to see,
Anything but you.

All while I was sinking through the dirt,

Withering in the graveyard of my trust,
My fields of flowers traded for dust,
Gave my blood for your quest,
Your words, even in my dreams won’t let me rest.

Barely breathing and still at fault,
That you’re seeing blood on the asphalt,
My pain could never be your fault,

Ever looked down at your hands?
The dirt from my grave,
My blood on your gloves,
Is that nothing you want to discuss?

Right, that wasn’t really you,
This was nothing you intended to do,
I just imagined a phantom,
Who threw an infernal tantrum.

One foot in hell if I believe your lies,
A wicked priest is your disguise,
Razor wire whips for tongues,
Your noxious breath filling my lungs,

It’s making me sick,

Sick of you pouring gasoline and setting it alight,
Hating how you always want to fight,
Sick of your deck only being stacked with victim cards,
Hating how eggshells turned into glass shards,
Sick of my boundaries being target practice,
Hating how I excused your malice,
Sick of feeling guilty for your mistakes,
Hating how I ignored all my aches,

Sick of playing by your narcissistic rules.

Dedicated to Foxy