Their tragedy

What an interesting muse,

she would rather draw from his misfortune than help him stay afloat

whatever makes her look good, whatever helps her gloat

blame isn't a game, it's his appointed disease

he just wants to be loved, so he begs and he pleads

he chews on his words as she sharpens her tongue

his lyrics of thought always going unsung

as intimate with her as a submachine gun

every movement he makes- every step the wrong one


In this lonesome abyss they are equally matched

for her body is his, yet her heart's unattached

beaten and bruised, a childhood lost

growing up too fast has a steep cost

an hole in her heart that she longs to fill

but she grasps on to things that never will

her lies are not working, everyone can see she is brittle

still she digs herself deeper little by little