You’ve been poking me for a while
Without grace, without style
You kept poking..
Poking until you almost pushed..
Me to the edge of admitting,
And never to the edge of forgiving..
But I was one step ahead of you,
So you couldn’t make your way through,
And when I thought I was victorious
You kept poking,
Until I could feel the loss
So after you became alive,
I was aware of all my lies
And although reluctantly,
I looked in my mirror
and cried..
Cause I saw you..
A worthless piece of shit,
A fucked up little kid
That refuses to grow up,
And keeps on doing what he must not
I ask myself while I’m sinking..
Was it ignorance ?,
That impaired my thinking,
Or was it neglect ?
That created these hideous perceptions
And made me betray my best intentions..
So the 17th of November
Is the day I’ve chosen to remember
But after having tasted,
the value of the worthless,
I hear my soul,
begging for a moment,
to lay you down to rest…
