Confusions, Contortions,Illusions of emotion.
Attempted manipulationAttempted suicideOne goes wrong.The other, right.
An assortment of desolatesAs close as bloodDwindles to four, then three, then none.
One lies through her teethScreaming for loveScreaming at the emptiness inside and above.
Two lovers left bitterTheir obsessions turned wrongPush their attentionsTo a knife and a bong.
Here sits the beauty,Tainted at last,Yet her emotions so pureShe’s still see through as glass.Giving her love to a lover soon gone,I pray she won’t join the lovers,Their knives and their bongs.
The Lolita sits quietly,Hungry, content.Her anger is dimming, her emotions are spent.
It’s a wonder they’ve made it,Made it at all.It’s no wonder the strainIt takes to stand tall.
They don’t stand together, the five, anymore,The lovers, the liar,The innocent, the whore.
Here in the spotlight’s the liar.Please don’t be fooled.She uses her laughter and her tearsLike you and I use a tool.
Death appeals to the lovers, lovers no more.The ex-lovers, they stalk death,An obligation, a chore.Blindly they look to the world all aroundHoping for silence, praying for sound.
Our darling Eve took the apple.She partook of the fleshBut temptation keeps on whispering to herWith his every breath.And as he sings her a lullaby,Croons her to sleep,She sobs because she knowsThere are things you simply can’t keep.
For the slut life is simple.Lust smells like MarlborosPurple packaged smoking JoesWanting warmth is all she knowsAnd that is all she gets.
Knowing every secretEvery wantRegret.
Uneasiness hidesWhere the truth lies.
The truth
In which the ex-lovers baskThe liar shunsThe flower fearsThe whore knows
And evasion of realityIs easier on your own.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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