Puke Poetry

Heart like a hand grenade, fully-automatic weapon for a mind.

Thursday, April 26, 2007

One Can Only Hope

the walls will finally
learn to speak
when one night
you wake up cold
wishing you'd had a heart
and that crack in your
soul, quickly turning to
a gaping hole
will introduce itself
and my name will
haunt you until
your dying day.

and i'll stand up straight
hold my head up high
and i hope it hurts
i hope it
rips you limb from limb
when you're hitting bottom
and you end up nothing
and i'm just a blur
off in the distance
that you still can't reach.

let me know when
you trip and fall
and just stay down
because you've finally
realized
the world has no use
for you.

and that'll be the day
that'll be the last day
you'll ever see
a smile cross my lips
at the mention
of your name.

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