No more stars in your bed....

The title doesnt have anything to do with the theme of the poem...It's just a little message to the guy this poem is about... Can you look me in the eyes anymore? Just once? Maybe it won't be the same as it used to, but this is different for a reason. Just look me in the face one last time, and answer one question. How do you do it? How do you get inside people, and move things around like you do? How do you mess them up Make them see black when theres white Feel cool in fire Burn when theres ice? How do you make them need you in a way they can't understand? You walk along like Death, choosing the worthy Touching their minds with a charred finger. Hollowing them out inside Killing the part of them that tells them who they are? From now on you tell them who they are. What they want. Why you're everything they ever needed. You curl up like smoke when theyre not looking, and fill them. Swirl into their lungs, seep in through their poors, flow through their blood. Like a traceless drug. And somehow time after time, you leave when you get tired of the game. Drop through them before they notice youre gone. And leave them needing you Forgetting how to live without you. An addiction they can't see or taste. A euphoria they spend their whole life trying to acheive, Chasing you like rats to a piper Through hoops and flames Never a second thought. And you laugh all the way, your sickle dropping on the heads of those that intrest you. But more importantly Tell me how you can do it with no remorse Hurt girl after girl and never flinch. Keep chuckling in a sea of tears. Walking across the surface like a god. Maybe youre trying to fill a hole in yourself with handfuls of their pain. Maybe youre just sharing handfuls of your own torment. Well I hope one day you get toyed with. No, better yet, I hope one day you meet the girl you could have really loved. I hope she sees your games Leaves you with no sympathy With her heads held high. And I hope once she's gone you realize how big of a mistake you've made. And I hope you hurt. Worse than all the lost souls following you. Maybe youre just dead inside and you'll never feel this kind of pain. Maybe that's why you make them feel it for you. You live it through their eyes their tears their blood. Well I won't feed your sickness. I'm walking away with my head high. While I still know who I am. I'll drown out the song of the piper with my own voice. And God I hope you hurt. Written March 28th, 2002 © on Mar 28 2002 06:56 AM PST   0 • 10