www.whyville.net Mar 31, 2007 Weekly Issue



Glitsygrl
Whyville Poet

Bad Love From the Beginning

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FRONT PAGE
CREATIVE WRITING
SCIENCE
HOT TOPICS
POLITICS
HEALTH
PANDEMIC
Knock me out, let me go back to being me.
Don't start washing the wounds I gave you.
It feels better if you keep it unclean.

Stop wringing your hands,
this is a just a cliche' of the past.
You knew this was coming, you knew I was going to hurt you.
So, why not?
Look me in the face and tell me your doubts,
'cause it's kind of funny how I stopped caring when I reached empty.

I scored so hard.
I thought it was a guarantee,
but if your heart is still pumping, I must have done something wrong.

You broke me down.
You broke me down to love,
but that fire stopped burning a long time ago, baby.
And now you're left with my ashes to clean up.
The joke's on you, and I can still hear you screaming for me to stop laughing.

Can't you understand,
that it was never us, it was always just you,
and when it spiraled down to the brass tacks,
I never cared.
You tried to change me, trying to make me into something you'd want,
but, hun, your parents were right. I'm dead, hard, coldness, and I was always nothing.

How could you have put that faith in me?
Can't you see through this smokescreen?
There's nothing but metal and a few magazines.
Light's out. Light's out. Light's out.
Darn the light, and darn the warmth.
You are sunshine, baby, how could you love my blackness?

That fire stopped burning long ago, and I crept up with the smoke.
Don't miss me. Don't wash the wounds I gave you clean.
Keep that inbearable sting of the cuts there, so that you will always have a piece of me.

 

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