The faces
Glowing paces
Walking cases
My brain in stasis
My blood boiling
The food spoiling
I haven't showered in weeks
The color drained from my cheeks
Do I really miss her?
My sorrow like thick fur
"Sir?"
No I won't respond
Socially drowning in a pond
I was never really fond
Of her
And yet maybe I miss her saying "dear?"
How ironic
All of this was demonic
A way to slither into my life
Then stab me with that verbal knife
Words cutting me deeper
The hill of life getting steeper
Till I'm climbing a 90 degree slope
Your as corrupt as a catholic pope
Your always high on dope
I ran out of hope
But I can't let you go
All of that time stuck and yes I know
That she's gone
But I'll sit here till dawn
All of these faces
Appearing like mental medieval mace's
Breaking me like shoe laces
Why are there so many new places
I hate all these new faces, two faces
