Sunday, 27 December 2009


An open pore. An open soul for You to stomp and kill. All Yours, there in Your palms. You stabbed me before, so i suppose now again it should be like a hard job made easy. I gave You all and more. I gave You my own little soul as an amulet to keep in the chest pocket, to keep You warm on days when it was an unbearably cold. On days when You needed a pal to tell all You needed to say, to feel like a human again. On days when rain was too tough to take and it caused tears in Your eyes because of sorrowful memories that'd past. On days when nothing was right, You had me there right beside You. I was there to catch You when You would fall. I was there to fix problems that seemed endless. I kept Your soul clean and ready to attack again. You where always ready, and only thanks to me.

Sometimes i wounder how You are doing with out your amulet. Do you often remember those days when you had everything? You had all the world in front of You, but all You could think about was losing the only thing You really had.
I yelled. I screamed. I told you many times. You never listened to me. You through me out like old socks that could be replaced with any other inhumane object. You were wrong. Like any other time when i kept You in safety thought i knew You had done the wrong things. I was always there for You. Your personal saviour. Your guarding angel.

Now it is You. It always haS been You. Once again You have another victim in Your arms. An almost dead soul that has been half murdered by Your own hand already once. I sit here, helpless, as i always have been. I am not begging You. I don't need You to spare my soul, because without You a part of me dies every day. Every single second i scream for Your love. I just wanted You to be there when i fell. ..but You weren't. You let me fall right down on my face.

So now, kill me if You must. Don't leave me half dead one more time. I better die now by my own traitor's hand then later by the deadly sorrows that will murder me because You will not be there to catch the poorly beating heart when it again will almost stop tracking its own blood stream.

1 comment:

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