How much did my heart end up bidding for?
That day when you auctioned the final valve out;
How many times did I have to beg you to stop?
Before you even realized what I was begging about.
And, when the snow fell in around your barricaded world ;
and no one else cared to come dig for your face…
that final shot – the one that stole your last sane thought –
must’ve come to you just as I set fire to my own face.
I still find your child-like, crumpled pieces of note;
an ocean of lies with each word that you wrote;
I still scream teardrop stains that streak down both cheeks;
Alone and afraid to swim through the bullshit you speak.
The doctors say the fragments of your blade is almost gone;
my back will heal up and they’ll sew my wings back on…
so that I can take flight just one very last time –
in order to die with a grip on what’s mine.