The Arsonist

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A Song

Submitted: November 05, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 05, 2012



The night’s edge,

Like razor blades,

Cut through the skin,

Of a love born thin,

On my part,

Your love was kind,

You gave a gift,

To an arsonist


I swore this life came down,

To an empty bottle,

And an open mouth,

Full of lies and deceit,

Now I’m struggling,

To find my feet,


Cause I’m out of her sight,

So I’m out of my mind,

I never meant a thing,

When I robbed you blind,

Of the freedom you held,

Or  the love you could find,

While I was killing myself,

I didn’t know you were dying


On every Avenue,

What can I say,?

On every Avenue,

I see your face,

Because it’s hard,

Yeah its hard,

To be alone,

Or on your own






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