Contusion.

I am just another false impression.
Nothing extraordinary.
Nothing remarkable.
Someone you would never love.
Someone you would never trust.
Someone you would never want to be with.
And so
This torment is filled with candor.
So, lie to me.
Say you love me once again.
Say you need me one more time.
Lie to me.
Lie.
Such a beautiful lie.
Grief that is tainted with insanity.
Gripping death.
An unloved man.
That’s all that’s left of me, I guess.

Playing.

Doubts resurface.
Lies continue to unfold.
Haunting. So compelling.
At each strike, one in bended knees.

Denial. Clear-cut.
Irresistibly beautiful.
Fooling around. One-night stands.
Beneath sheets, not a regret.

Then, I fell.
Lost my sanity.
Overwhelmed by cardiac palpitations.
I gave in, not a question was told.

No one knew.
Until the day I was wounded.
Not using my head, I bled.
Drowning in my own tears, dried up.

The trust. The love.
Everything was but a lie.
I fell on bended knees.
Wishing. I could have used my mind.

This game.
I am destined to lose.
This game.
I am destined to be bruised.

And this game.
I am destined to be six feet under.