"Slipping up"

As I throw up my words, i cannot help but inspect them in discontent. A hurdle of ignorance stands before me, retraining my thoughts - thoughts of you and why it has to be this way. Another cut and i will be free. Why do i always stop short of dying. My illness too complex for you to deal with or understand, too weak to look beyond you own insecurities to be the hand that holds on to me before i fall over the edge. You shut me out in your frustration as you would if i have STDs. I do not blame you. I know you could never love me.

  ¶ 8/27/2004 09:38:00 AM