Scissors

“And you may love me like a saint, but you’ll lose faith eventually” – Cut the String, Mother Mother I’ve got the scissors ready— Never been one to cut straight, But let me tell you—I cut just the same! After all, it helps me breathe, when you’re away Now I don’t mean that in a horrible sense Where’s the lines that make it easier to cut? You learn to go around the edges In a circular manner, So not to hurt their pride Get out of here! I didn’t sprinkle sugar on your wound So that you could see how sweet I could maim you And I don’t expect you to be assured with the truth Because the truth isn’t always an oxygen tank Reality is the true gravity The one that pushes you to the ground And it will set you straight It is fun when you duet with your imagined fate But it’s a slap in the face when you wake up to your own wails At 4:00 AM Writhing in unfathomable sorrows It’s a ceaseless solo of defeat, And the scissors are so near and dear It is like I am ready Armed for the foreseen pain again Because pains are split moments And your love is dangerously inconclusive So I’ve got the scissors ready— Never been one to cut straight, But let me tell you—I cut just the same! I’m ready to breathe when you are…