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The DesertI stare at the bottle on the tablefull of sinister intentglinting faintly in thedim lightpromising oblivion, theprivilege to forget...What a sweet oasis that would bein this desert, this wasteland.Your cruel deceit, your backwards logic,your mercilessness-covering me under a veil of melancholy thoughts;crushing meunder the staggering weight of yourmalformed love:an unexpected sandstorm,a plague of locusts,and even God could not lead me to the Promised LandI know I should lift my head off the groundbut what good would it do?I told myself I wouldn't let you get me down,but alas, that's all you seem to do.I hate you so, for ruining my memories-all those times that make me want to cry.Because when I remember who you wereit feels like part of the universe has died.I lead a half-life,my heart on display,and nothing hurts the way it shouldThings that I should never, ever saysomehow make me feel so good.The last thing I would want to dois hurt you...But I can't
PlayboyDressed up like a mannequinsome sweet-scented, alluring flowershe stands there, almost stone-like,in a window somewhere.Quietly, respectfully,she walks through the haunted mansionwhere some dark emotion resides,waiting patiently, contemplating her humanityuntil the self-hatred subsidesShe has seen him, she has smelled him on herselfand her eyes are chiseled flintcold and unforgivinguntil his dark intentions are spentCould she ever be the onethat someone else would cherishto hold in high regarduntil the day they were goneNo, she stumbles through the world,destitute, and betrayedShe could never understandthat perhaps she could be savedLike a record stuck on 'play'she recites his last parting words,in the unforgiving light of dayshe swallows them like swordsthey pierce every inch of her insidestear her into shredsAnd now she lies, no pridewith her eyes closed, her face turning redCould she ever leave this life she leadsand find some better wayto unravel his