My little Butterflies.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Wine on it.

I tried.
I did.
I think I did.
Maybe I didn't try hard enough.


I don't like it being so one sided.
Yes it has been us all along.
I don't want an end.
But you scream out.
I don't like all this silent yelling.


I want it mended.
Why can't you or anyone see it.
Perhaps I'm not trying hard enough.
I need more strength to go on.

Trust is now broken.
All I can think of is a snake that could be behind it.
I shouldn't think so.
But I know that a crumpled paper can't be straight again.

Perhaps we'll have our last words.
Those tears shed.
They've made us all tired.
We're all broken now.


I try not to care.
But how can I not care?
Should I be more selfish and harden this heart to hurt?
Or maybe I already am and this mask is not coming off.
I'm pulling and it's ripping my flesh along.
I'm sorry. This hurts. It hurts.

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