I can hear you. You're on the other side of that wall. Your stomach is betraying you. But you cast the first stone. Retch, retch, like a wretch. Like the scum you made yourself. Feel the acid burn your throat. Can't you taste the burning pain? I hope is sears you. Brands you forever. You're only savior is the porcelain you're vomitting your sins into. It flushes all of your pain away. Into some sewer for the rats to eat and get high. Was it worth it? The needles and the nosebleeds? Was it worth it? The death threats and lack of respect? Was it worth it? Running away like a coward with your tail between your legs. You've lost it. You've lost the food you ate. You've lost money. You've lost years of life. You've lost brain cells. You've lost common sense. You've lost the already dwindling respect you once had. You've lost your fucking mind. You've lost your chance to become a man. You're just a little a child. A little stupid child. A fucking stupid child. Do you feel like a superstar yet?

A poem by me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sing me a requiem. A mourning lullaby. I can see the clock in the reflection in your eyes. Tap a tune. Hum a little bit. Feel a tingleing in your fingertips. You want to leave. I want to stay. And you wouldn't have it any other way. You want me. But only to want you. You know I will never be through. You may have left, But you haunt me. You are dancing in my memories. You have me, Right where you please. You want me begging on my knees. Sing me a requiem. A mourning lullaby. I can see the time ticking away in your eyes. You left again. This is punishment. This is only half of an abandonment. I know they know. They keep it inside. Say it to themselves, knowing I have no where to hide. They have control. They have power. Making me think about them every hour. The clock whirls. Time never ends. Yet we go through places, and through trends. No looking. No acknowledgement. Just laughter out of that mouth, and torment. Sing me a requiem. A mourning lullaby. I see that it is time for this to die. Look away. Don't stare. Those eyes are not blank, nor bare. Holding love. Holding pain. All that is given to me is disdain. Playing games. Give and take. Getting amusement from my aches. They know so much. They tell even more. So letting them out is less of a chore. Have not forgotten. They speak of me. But knowingly only in negativity. I sing my own requiem. My lonesone lulluby. As I am lowered into the grave, buried alive.