We’re supposed to be 4 months
but instead we’re lost.
People think of our past
as myths.

They just don’t know
what happened behind those doors.
Its my job to give them a show.
Giving them different tours.

Different girls
with practically the same stories.
They don’t know we couldn’t wear pearls.
To hold our stories we wrote diaries.

Sadly I was wanted alive.
I didn’t want any of the five.
I wanted only one
So I could of finally have won.

Until they know how it feels
to be know someone and think you’ll never see again.
Someone that steals
wouldn’t know the pain.

You’ll still be living
as long as this is read.
This will be outliving
you when you’re dead.

They’ll know who I loved,
not the one I shoved.
Forever in my heart
like a work of art.