I apologize for what I am.
Martyrs must be such a nuisance to live with.
All the pointless things I've given up and lost.
I've never asked for bridges or chapels for what I've done.
Just unwritten acknowledgment when your eye's drift through me,
Never over me.
What more could I possibly give?
Is there a wall or a mountain I ever denied to rip down with my own nails?
I've kept myself in my skin for longer than I care to say.
Yet something about this night is screaming for me to tear right into it.
I'm tired of waiting for an apology.
Or even the sound of six simple letters would be worth the breathing I've lost
And the sleep withheld.
I'm sorry to say that I don't brag.
But I have yet to lose my chance to.
You spend all your time silently convincing yourself that you're coming apart.
I spend my nights tying my pieces together with sheets and pens.
I've watched tree limbs tear down memories
For storm clouds as they fled for the ground.
I've seen shorelines flee with them to oceans behind walls.
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