Your imaginary enemies arenít the boss of me

Tell me the story of our demise
and Iíll paint you a picture
of my sleepless nights

And youíll tell me itís all lies
Ďcause youíre the one that dies
at the start of each day
when she wakes up
and screams you into existence

Reality takes a back seat
to every spectacle
to every story
to every cigarette
and chocolate glazed donut

Until the dreams turn to memories
that never happened
and you hold a gun to my head
with the promise that youíll shoot it
though youíve yet to load it

© Indie Adams 2016
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
Published | Edited 2nd Aug 2018
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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