Not Worth the Paper this Goodbye Was
Printed On....
Looking back on your little game,
I'll laugh until my sides cave in.
Your pretty words were ugly lies
I'm decimated, shred inside.
Looking back, wishing you'd died,
Thinking of all those silent times,
After the fights, late nights,
Looking at your sleeping , beautiful face---
I just can't make you understand
How many times I held that gun in my hand.
I think of all the waking times you held it too,
When you put it where my heart lived,
Before I was the shrew.
I think of all the things you put me through,
And now there's nothing here that's just for you.
Once I held you close and it was home.
Now I don't even care when you're not alone.
Fuck the bitches in my house and in my bed
Use them like you used me,
They dry up and then they're dead. (to you)
Like me. (to you)
Comments: This is for the one who supposedly would always understand, the one who would always make it all
better, my proverbial knight-in-shining-armour.....
Synonomous with the one who wants his dinner on
time, the one who expected total compliance and,
ultimately, the one who became bored with his own
martyrdom....the consumate survivor of a survivor.
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