Short cuts never take me to the sweetest fruits from the highest
They only leave me broken and wondering why I took such an easy
way out in such a complicated story.
I re-write my chapter a thousand times, but I can never get it
right, it always having an identical ending to the last to what's
I trace what's left in memory of your skin, the lips I admire
with such blind devotion, yearning for what will leak out next
I wake up clutching my pillow, the only greeting I get is the
cool breeze entering through the window.
Even this callous touch is an instant reverie of you.
I guess, I liked how I was never good enough, inadequacy kept me
fixated, an awaiting dog wanting praise and a kiss.
I never got it from you, and I never will.
The little girl with pristine skin and hour glass eyes, I miss
her, her innocence waiting for it's demise.
If I could talk to her, lead her in a different path, scenarios
with less mental and physical blood.
The massacre inside her head could finally end.
No more split tears, the never ending lack of fulfillment during
her visual ills.
She'd see herself in a new light. Something far brighter than
what was ever imagined for her.
No more looking back at the past, a figment that no longer lasts
inside the tightly fitted walls inside her skull.
All will erupt, leading everything to have this deadly tint of
vibrantly printed out sculptures of the better and better to be.
Because without you, there's a greater, happier, and more