You hung me like a picture, Now I'm just a frame. I used to be a lap dog, Now I'm just a stray. Shackled in the graveyard, Left here to decay. my last true confession will open your eyes..
Status: and im flyer than the highest flying bird around this hoe
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Sex: female Age: 17 Location: San Angelo,
Texas, United States
Member since: July 10, 2009 Account: Free Account Status: Single and not looking
Here's to the friends that were alibis. Keep this close, by your side. When I come home we will have our night. And all the friends that I have gone through, and how much I deserve the pain.. Its a shame. I'm finding myself staring at this screen more and more lately. Blankly, emotionless. Not a trace of thought seems possible. A spark illuminates what isn't there. And the pretense that resides is falling apart. I don't have many alibis left. I can't keep inoculating. I can't keep functioning. This is all falling apart. I'm falling apart. It feels good to know this. To know that I will finally be exposed. To know that the world will finally know what I am. Who I have been will die, and along with it; my life. The very structure that I walk upon has a cracking foundation. And I hold the chisel. Its a way of letting myself go, and accepting whatever comes my way. Being knead, and molded like a work of art. Distorted, and beautiful.
In what way I cannot control... I cannot grasp the edge, I cannot slide my fingers under the trimming and pull my wreck to safety. My very conciseness is tipping, overflowing with resentment.
My sentimentality is a useless battle, one of which I no longer fought. But I seemed to touch the brink of my very existence. I pressed forward, throwing myself into various vices. None of which proved to be of use, and left the existence of all emotion to dissipate. Yes it is true, I am not one to speak of liars; because I am such. The dogged, the decrepit. The insane. The worms, and the vermin that wretch beneath the golden souls. Those who do not acknowledge our existence. Until hoodwinked into doing so. I will not hold my head up high; my head is tired. Weary from the many strategies; and embassy's scattered within. Many of which are deteriorating due to lack of composure. Composure which has been long forgotten.
How can I praise only myself for this?
Because I am the only one who knows.
So break me down if it makes you feel right
And hate me now if it keeps you alright
You can't break me down if it takes all your might
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