divinity's a pipe dream and I'm tired of smoking

What are we still doing here, darliní?
Weíre broken and we know it
Iím tired of picking up the pieces
of your afterbirth like theyíre art

I canít fix you
I canít save you
Iím no angel

Didnít anyone ever tell you
divinity isnít just a passive wall
graffitied with the shit of our lives
itís not face-gutter-smashed
blood and bone on the pavement
full of promises that canít be fulfilled
because it was too busy taking a beating

Divinity is not like me

Iím just trying to get through each year
without checking out on a suicide ride
and that slipstream pulls at me harder
than youíll ever know
because we donít talk about my death
Iíve got too much to live for

I canít help the impulse to destroy
this tiny little life Iíve built
the matchsticks are flammable
and Iím flicking the lighter under the bed sheets
wondering how long theyíll take to catch alight
while youíre telling me to get the fuck up
and let the fire go
Ďcause Iíll never look good with third degree burns
never mind that youíre walking around
doused in lighter fluid
daring someone, anyone to torch you
like a bonfire fantasy

What are we still doing here, darliní?
Weíre broken and we know it
can we stop pretending now
or is that just part of this game
of Russian roulette for the soul?

No, Iím no angel
and this isnít what divinity looks like
though itís funny how I could have sworn once
that you were an angel come to save me

Pity then
that Iím still bleeding on the floor

© Indie Adams 2014
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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