Paper Games

A Poem by Andrea

corrupted silence makes one go mad

I watched the sun fall
from the sky
and where the f**k were you?

The course of the day
played out in few years
or maybe I looked at the calender wrong.

I'm sick of these little
paper games
that burn to a crisp
with a flick of your cigar.

I hear them scream
girl
take your medications
if you are so sick of his
lies
and so sick of his
substitutions.

I am anorexic to your
opinions and thoughts,
but bulimic to your heart.
This disorder has gone
way too far
and due to this illness
I begin to decay.

I am tired of your boring,
yet selfish ways,
but my hands will not ever
ungrasp your smile.

I watch the sun fall
a thousand more times
screaming, "where the f**k are you!?"