False Idol
I still idolize you
While I sit, the broken demon
Thinking of all the ways to return to the soil I was made of
Hell must be a library
Filled with all the poems I’ve written, wishing you would have stayed
They echo the halls of this empty heart
And torment me with their ringing
Shallow, watered down epithets stain their pages
Their spines broken
From how many times they’ve been bent under my wishful thinking
You’re the devil
The way your name dances in their titles
And my love
I’d swallow your bastards blood
Taint my innocence with your guilt
If I’d finally be enough
If I’d finally be someone you could love
Posted Sep 22, 2022, 6:54 AM UTC
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