Confessions at 17

Confessions at 17

Try to smile,
Swallowing your pride for another hit,
Injecting the needle just a little too deep,
As your nose begins to bleed,
Floating at least eight feet,
From the ground,
As you blow the smoke from your paralyzed smile,
In the crimson tides of unspoken emotion,
Veiled in to your almost nonexistence,
Stay there behind a painted laugh,
Misled into the beliefs of redemption,
Betraying your own emotions,
Lie there naked,
Fully open,
Fully forbidden,
Staring deeper as you begin to quake in the mirror,
Picturing your world as a perfect thing,
In your bed ridden with apathy,
You filthy little whore,
Take it in a little deeper,
Ignore the searing pain,
After all,
When he makes you call him daddy,
When he grabs in to your bathroom surgery,
When he laughs and insults you,
With a barrage of curses,
It’ll make the rest of the pain numb,
And when you’re in solitaire of misbelieve,
Maybe you’ll forget,
You’re me.