“This’ll Be The Last You’ll See Of Me” – Days 293 and 294

“A Sickness”
There is a sickness
Within my lungs
It binds me to the places
That hurt the most.
Leaves me haunted by these memories
That won’t leave me.
Taunt me all they will.
Ignore them all,
I will.
Still they follow,
Make me tremble.
They are fungus.
They twist their roots
Into my heart
And feed off my fear.
So I’m left a shell:
Like a man after a lobotomy.
Is this all that’s left of me?
I hope not.
I hope I have some fight left.

“This’ll be the Last You See of Me”
I’ve only got so much left in me;
Before I’m on the edge again.
Fill me up with cyanide
And tell me to sleep well tonight.
Take me out of the picture
You’ll have nothing to worry about.
I’ll be gone,
And you’ll have won.
This is why life hurts;
This is why knives hurt.
Lock me up
Throw away the key.
This’ll be the last you see of me.


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