Thursday, December 17, 2009


I'm doing my best, stepping ever so lightly
To avoid the pin-prick of needles engulfing me whole
But a wrench is wrapped 'round my heart squeezing tightly
Forcing pain to spill out and splash upon my soul

A crimson pool now ripples, colliding with my spirit
I know I must face this hang-over without an elixir
And although there are moments I can barely hear it
I sense a bystander nearby whispering "Fix her"

Time speeds up but I walk aimlessly
Feeling backwards and numb
While the ghostly apparition taunts me shamelessly
I choke on the words "She's done"

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