so please,
please please please
never tell me you care for me
then claim that I\'m a tease,
my porcelain heart cant handle it,
you like to watch it ease
into the pool of blood,
shattered and useless.
the truth?
you\'d never understand.
but i still want your smile,
your temper, your hand
in mine...
in my bed,
all alone.
the only friends i have
don\'t even know me,
but they\'re the kindest.
i miss them and need them,
and i swear i can see them,
and i swear they can see me.
and i know they know me
better than i know myself.
in my bed,
all alone,
but I\'m not really lonely.
I\'m starving and tired and messy
and i keep on sobbing.
the difference is,
if they knew me, they\'d be scared,
but they don\'t,
so my tears are interpreted
as art.
in my bed,
all alone,
i cant help but to think
the reason no one is here
is because i cannot love.
not first, not last,
not now, not ever.
then i crack when the affection
isn\'t for me?
in my bed,
all alone
because you\'ve heard it said before...
I\'ve claimed to be so fragile,
innocent, yet a whore.
truth is, i don\'t know who i am,
but i think if i write
enough poetry,
she might show herself.