The Writer

In a hell of my own creation, With responsibilities and attached emotions. Nowhere left to turn because I’ve been left forsaken, Well that may be my story, the one I’ve been creating, Add your own verse if you feel mistaken, Had love for me when I wasn’t paying attention. Guarded my back when I left it open, Who’s to say it wasn’t a knife that I felt plunging. Played the fool, the heartless, and the visibly shaken, My mind and heart races to the beat of my own abomination. Rip the page from my memory, leave that book unwritten, The author has left to write another Fked up mystery.