Back to being a tortured poet!

’cause everyone just loves tortured souls, no?

there’s this sadness inside of me like an endless tear
and everytime I think it’s gone it’s merely been wiped away temporarily
by the surprise of a new toy on Christmas morning
The glimmer of hotel chandeliers with the taste of champagne
Lingering like a quiet kiss
and then I go to sleep and remember
waking up choked by my animal cries

Love only breaks your heart
the foolish brave souls are so brash as to open that door
the one full of skeletons and do not enter signs
treasure chests once gold, now mothballs
of the dress you wore when your eyes first met
they say you’re healed when you’re ready to open that door again
But you’re just another soldier, a pawn
To buy into a nonexistent happiness
Expectations unfulfilled like empty wrapped boxes
With a bow on Christmas morning

My father told me that you’re born alone
And you die alone only accompanied
By memories of all the choices you’ve made
And I love all the men
with their tall dark figures
and authoritative voices
that never say much
but say just enough
to convince you it’s worth the battle
and this time you’ll know where the shooter will be
who he is and his intentions

You’re wearing your best
In your little black dress
With a bullet proof vest

That bastard always shoots you in the arm
Enough to wound but not to kill
And you wake up crying wishing for the latter

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