Bermuda Triangle

I'm lost in the past, searching for a future,
Every time I cut my throat, I wake up in the present with a suture.
Every time I find meaning, it's another dagger in my chest.

Every rhyme is an epitaph, a prayer that all real heroes aren't already put to rest.

Art is dying (if she's not already dead); 
Most days I feel like crying, but tears don't get you ahead.

If I said what I was really thinking, you'd be the first to rally "off with his head!"
They look at me like I'm a mistake, a halfwit, a fool;
But I'm the last original, in a sea of manufactured tools,
All happy enough to see me put to death due to their master's rules.

I can't help but feel that I'm the only one who can take my life,

Otherwise, I'd bleed out, when you twist my back with your knife.

I can numb myself comfortably but I can't forget your kiss.

I let you see inside me, then you turned your head and walked away;

But at the end of it all, it's your mind, not your flesh that I miss.

I'm a lifeless shell of my former self, I guess that's what I came here to say..

Author's Note

3/20/15

Reviews

[B]

Love this line
Its your mind, not your flesh that i miss

so much truth to this