Hallo.

Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite, 'Fool,' said my Muse to me; 'look in thy heart and write.'
- P Sidney.

You pull at the strings, but they're broken it seems...The dance isn't over for me, my love.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Nevermind Said Your Open Arms, I Couldn't Help Believe You'd Trick Me Back Into Them.

You're like...A ladder.
You'll cling to the edges and step on the rungs.  Hold on to us for support, but step on us to... Make yourself feel better?  To make us feel horrible?  To get people to cry themselves to sleep?  
How am I supposed to know what joy you find in judging?
Describe for me how it feels when your foot slips and you cling to the sides for support, the ladder swaying precariously and all you can do is hold on and hope to dear God that you won't fall.  Continue to describe how it feels stepping on rung after rung, person after person.  Sometimes two at a time.
How impolite of me, I forgot to say please.  But hey, I'm just another rung.  The lowest.  The one you step on last as you come back down the ladder, and then one you'll step on first when it's time to get back to an all time high.
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2 comments:

  1. Ace BrackenMay 7, 2011 at 9:03 AM

    This extended metaphor is wonderful. Your brain must be an interesting place to live. <3

    ReplyDelete
  2. WilderMay 7, 2011 at 9:15 AM

    XD Thankyou, Thankyou.
    Only sometimes, when my brain can actually be found. >.>

    ReplyDelete

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