angry twisted thing
Yeah, I'd be there for you,
If all of your stars fell-
I always have been.
But what if, just what if
Mine fell? They have.
Did you care?
I thought you could carry me
But all your wings are flimsy,
Like a prostitutes dress code.
Keep on pulling at me
From your suicidal pedestals
On which you seek attention-
You let me into your fucked up worlds
Then spit in my face when I
Open the door of mine.
It's best to keep it shut.
When you are choked by emotions
And cowardly selfishness, you opt to
Slash at those twisted vines that you call your life...
Apathy is next in line.
I can pretend I don't give a damn-
You're all so good at it.
Carly Findlay,
March 2000