deepundergroundpoetry.com
My Anti-Suicide Note
I would have spent my soul in your arms
but I was never quite petty enough for you,
you couldn't quite reach the bottom
of this shallow man,
so you got scared and swam back to shore.
You wanted the football player type,
but I was just me, plain and stupid,
and my scribbled words and pencil drawings
made you laugh
and press your high heel through my bleeding heart.
What would I give up for you?
I guess that's what you always wanted,
a martyr at your altar,
but I don't have the balls,
not to go that far,
a razor blade penetrating
I can deal with but
I want to wake tomorrow inside my skin.
but I was never quite petty enough for you,
you couldn't quite reach the bottom
of this shallow man,
so you got scared and swam back to shore.
You wanted the football player type,
but I was just me, plain and stupid,
and my scribbled words and pencil drawings
made you laugh
and press your high heel through my bleeding heart.
What would I give up for you?
I guess that's what you always wanted,
a martyr at your altar,
but I don't have the balls,
not to go that far,
a razor blade penetrating
I can deal with but
I want to wake tomorrow inside my skin.
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