dysfunctional

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I walk up the stairs where we first met, dreaming of you waiting for me at the top.. Your love, your touch, your smile had blinded me. Your played me so nicely, till you got tiered of the same routine. 
I wish I could be like a melody My mind and body beautifuly in harmony   Instead it's a clash, a bang and a boom My body falling heavily while my head is above the moon  
Your hands came up empty Your heart became dry When everything was set to be done. Everything that was once love became fear Now here I lay alone My body grows heavy but not enough to fall asleep
(Read top to bottom) I am part of a dysfuntional minority, and I refuse to believe that I can change people's views. I understand that it is difficult to grasp but, "guns kill people," is a lie, and
The room is always dim, aside from the fog of creeping cancer, and over-priced incense. It bounces, it swirls, among the sad lamps (barely holding on), seeps from under locked doors.
Tears turn on like a broken faucet, droplets splashing on my hands and in my hair. He hasn't come home yet. His absence is fresh in the minds of his loved ones and all left with almost no more emotions to bear.
Pretty little liar, in your pretty little attire, looking stressed and hot wired, we see through all your games.
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