A different approach,
To get the same result,
Sew my wrists closed,
And act like an adult.
Not for a good reason,
It never does matter,
Loving you is treason,
I am losing the battle.
A torn life preserver,
That will not hold air,
Is what I’m living for,
If I as much as dare.
Taking the shortcuts,
Into the hardest path,
Staple my mouth shut,
And leave me to gasp.
Twenty million colors,
Bundled up into three,
Black, white, no other,
Than a grey can I see.
Yesterday is tomorrow,
Today is a day before,
I can’t end the sorrow,
Or tolerate it anymore.
Apologies are all empty,
And far out of context,
For me to ever believe,
What you will do next.
The same old approach,
Yields the best result,
With both eyes closed,
You are not the adult.
I never have a reason,
To make it all matter,
Knowing that treason,
Is your wasted battle.
Keep a life preserver,
As well as all your air,
I learned to swim for,
Any time that you dare.
I enjoy the shortcuts,
Interrupting your path,
With my two ears shut,
I can’t hear you gasp.
You don’t have colors,
Not even a basic three,
You’re like every other,
Monochrome spot I see.
I don’t dread tomorrow,
Like I once did before,
I won’t be your sorrow,
Or a scapegoat anymore.
You are beyond empty,
I omit you from context,
Because I don’t believe,
You get to kill me next.