Out of Love

Warnings ring deep inside me
about each little lie that
shut me down with choices
made in haste, made from fear
that I might spend my life alone.

Passionless, slowly eroded love...
his blackmail lines repeated every night...
while wishes are trapped inside
and my tearducts are clogged
from the residue of false smiles and false dreams.

Clueless wanderer, I dig up the worms -
for it is far too late to catch them on land.

Then I waste another day as I wait
for any kind of sign of what to do now.

As an innocent child, on bathroom floor,
I cried for God's help, but remained
unanswered and ignored for years
-- that's still what I do, shamefully,
when nothing I do is right.

Though the sweetest poisons of my lie
no longer slip over my tongue,
nothing has altered -
there's been no change.

So, in the night, turned on my side,
tears come strong to warn me
of haste and lies that might
bury the real me, again,
if I don't try to be real,
if I let the ghost-me take control, again.