Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
The ball's in your court now
My heart I slit open
And poured upon your feet
The grotesque truths that were
Harbored within.
Every word is a bruise
Upon my pale, sallow skin.
Wasted anger, wasted hate.
Hold me until it passes,
But don't shove me out of your way
So that you can stutter an excuse.
It's another day.
Give me six years ago.
I want to be real again.
I want to feel real again.
7-6-11
And poured upon your feet
The grotesque truths that were
Harbored within.
Every word is a bruise
Upon my pale, sallow skin.
Wasted anger, wasted hate.
Hold me until it passes,
But don't shove me out of your way
So that you can stutter an excuse.
It's another day.
Give me six years ago.
I want to be real again.
I want to feel real again.
7-6-11
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
The ball`s in your court now
The ball`s in your court now
