the gold-hatted high-bouncer
here is how i feel:
who would love you? who would try?
you were a lie and you were a cheat and you were a steal,
and you expect me, now, to fall in line?
stab your gorgeous heel
deep through my ribs with every step.
the time it takes to heal -
you have got no idea, do you?
of the act when you walked away...
the fact that you locked away...
the lies that you actualized...
the lines that you compromised...
well, i should have known
that a queen would not pick me from her catalogue.
but that i would jest for you
until an upgraded model came along.
here at the station,
a ticket out is my only inspiration.
how i wish i
could manage to muster up more motivation.
but the act when you walked away...
the fact that you locked away...
the lies that you actualized...
the lines that you compromised...
outside my window
there stands a man of twenty-seven.
made-up and costumed,
well-rehearsed, i pretend to be him.
stone-cold and sober,
i have yet to make a good decision.
lights out and lock down.
i feel much safer inside my prison.
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- Published:
- 9:41 PM
- by PAT RICK
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