Listen to poem:
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…
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
