Monday, January 17, 2011

Riot.

Your halo is flickering again
and you might need the light
when you drive the final nail in.

It's true; I let my words turn black,
though they still sound so beautiful.
I can't remember when it was
that I actually cared about you.

I have plunged myself in the ground
beneath someone else's feet now,
so I guess you can blame it all on me.

I didn't look back when the riot started,
I didn't turn around once when
the adolescent hurricane finally hit.
I knew I wasn't leaving anything (worthwhile) behind.

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