December 20, 2008
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The words you throw at me,
they sink into my skin
like the venom from a snake.
I tell myself this is a dream.
But wrong, I'm wide awake.
Every word you say
shoots at me like a bullet.
Everytime you put your finger on the trigger
I beg you, please don't pull it.
You shoot at me with insults.
And remind me how we got here
over and over, "it's your fault."
I walk away, I refuse to argue.
You're not the person i knre before,
who are you ?
I know I'm wrong, but what makes you so right?
You seem like you're so strong, so why do you choose to fight?
I've got a couple messages,
and I think it's time i send 'em.
It's your turn to feel my pain,
feel the venom.
How does it feel,
to know it's not a dream?
To know you're wide awake.
No matter how fake it may seem.
This is my last bullet
my finger on the trigger.
You beg me, plese don't pull it.
It's too late, it's over.
You should've figured.

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