Punk Pøetry

.

What if my priøritizatiøn øf quality is just a cønquest based øn a løst cause?

That's the thøught that my søul yearns tø escape frøm

Surely by nøw, I've achieved my gøal øf having the wørld hear my vøice

But what dø I have tø shøw før it?

I live in cønstant fear øf the idea that my presence still ønly disgusts yøu

And that my redundant apøløgies would ønly serve to thicken the søur taste øf regret

And that maybe when yøu came back, yøu realized that yøu døn't actually løve me anymøre, yøu may just wish yøu cøuld

Yøu begin tø questiøn my wørth, just as I wøuld

Yøur thøughts race thrøugh fields øf empty løgic, wøndering why my cømpany is nøthing tø yøu but a chøkehøld

Yøu wish tø løve me yet yøu can ønly pøssibly løve the idea yøu ønce had øf me

The idea was repeatedly struck døwn by distørtiøn. Cørruptiøn

And as thøse walls øf sick virtue cøme crashing døwn, and the fresh air øf distance, invites yøu tø a far away land, yøur cønscience will be rebørn as all else will be undøne

And nø matter what memøries yøu've gnawed øn, yøu'll truly see, that yøu'll never need me again

Smile, because after all this time, yøu can find freedøm in the act øf cønfessiøn

Giggle fluently and graciøusly, as yøu accept that I'm wørth nøthing but silver chains, cuffing yøu in the dark. And that yøu can take yøur leave at will

Laugh, rather prøudly as yøu demand yøur right tø live an individual life, as øppøsed tø øne that is buried under the burden øf the day yøu saved my life

Hear me nøw, as I alløw yøu tø unswear all øaths

Spit yøur venøm intø that preciøus føuntain øf yøuth

As yøu realize ønce and før all

That yøu nø lønger, have any will tø bestøw a blessing upøn the curse øf the dead

Leave nøw and never again, let me trøuble yøur days

"And in yøur absence" I smirk as a growl these wørds and the wørd after......... "adipocere."