Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god

Sleepyhead

The crime leaves a bitter taste upon my tongue
And I bite down until I bleed.

I pantomime emotion, pretending excitement,
Feigning intrigued but ultimately, a fake.

There is no justice scales weighing the situation equally.
Instead, there is a hellion tipping the scales,
And not in my favor either.

Frustration grips me, and I like who I was a year ago.
The girl I am now is an ugly monster, deserving
Only of euthanasia, and nothing more.

But the grim reaper won't hold my hand and I
Can't sing him awake anymore.

I lay down and wait for nature to take its course.

6-6-12


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Sleepyhead

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