written by: The Quiet Quill
You've become the days that I'm wasting away.
What's left of where I've been? How am I a peasant and you're the queen?
Too many hours have passed me by, yet all I can do is think and cry.
My head and thoughts are sick, my eyes sting as I watch all of your tricks.
Your head is held so high and mine still tries
But getting over deceit is a hard game to beat.
There you stand so tall and proud, reading your perfect script aloud.
What can I do but applaud along too?
If I darken your sun I'm the one who'll be shunned.
My stomach churns and the raindrops burn,
Or is that in my mind? Am I burning inside?
While anger bubbles I'm headed for trouble,
Stranded on this road, I begin to implode.
Flashbacks talk back, they're on the attack.
Years of memories and "you and me's"
Our funny ways in those honest days,
They all pinch and poke and I start to choke
On torment, tears, fury and fears
That have all come true in someone I knew.
I stop. I breathe. I quietly seethe
And I realise that you were never true.
I want your illusions that caused me confusion
To release and roar, revealing you as a fraud.
You made me question, doubt, feel I was without
All the wonder you had and now I am glad.
Because despite your nonsense, I'll remain in your conscience,
And as my pain ends you'll be wondering when
I became the days that you're wasting away.
An open book with a few words tucked away. I have many thoughts to think and many feelings to feel, which I exorcise through poetry; my therapy.