Vinegar

You must be made of bitter stuff

How else are you able to sting so much ?

The very tongue I thought was made of honey

Is forked.

The fingers that stopped my rattles

Are spears, dipped in vinegar

And you pour it into my wounds

Like I’m a newspaper full of fries.

Lies. LIES. Lies.

You undermined everything with spiralling secrets.

And now I can’t see the sky for the trees

The love for the pleas

The never ending clockwork circle

I’m wound up.

Turning like a silly soldier

Into the fire but no little tin heart.

Just a puddle where I was once a thing

For you to play with then burn.

(C) Slumpless

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