Troubled facade

When you wrap me in your cold dead arms
and tell me that I am the only one.
Then my dear I know that you are lying
When you holler my name,
in the street
whilst I stand by your side,
waiting for the rain to break.
Umbrella hanging sadly
down at my waist.
Here
I know you are not without scorn
As you tie my legs to a lamppost
brimming with desire and contempt
and bruise me
with the flat palm of your knife
like only you can.
Then I know you are weak
And in that instance,
at that moment
In the slight pause between night and day
I see you for the first time.
See who You really are.
See your ugly soul rebound off my being
and into your heart.
Desperately beating out the tone of the tune.
Drilling into your head
buried under plastic jars and paper plates.
Marvelling at sounds you have never heard
nor have wont to.
Stories of days gone by and feelings past
and the death of something true
someone true.
Yet all the while you sit silently
and play to the fire of the gun

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