Friday, 9 February 2007

I'm Finger Food And You've Got An Appetite For Destruction

Walking in, you own the door
Sitting here, bite my lip and cut to shreds.
Shadows tower and consume
Hungry, jaws gape and leer,
I know what this is about,
Seduced by power, swayed by money,
But turned by violence and kept by it
Fear freezes and thaws, this is something much more
The cuts and bruises can be glossed over
But the stuff inside will never be explained
In a corner, a stairwell, a backstreet pass
I ripped apart long ago
I bled and I was sore- past tense
The pain only carries on in my head
Uncomfortably numb as you make me
Uncomfortably none.

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