The End

I didn't want this to be another holocaust
no, I -won't- burn anymore paper with these thoughts.
Self-centered, I center myself in the dirt
but you won't hear me screaming when they bury me in my favorite shirt.

This is the last song, third to last stanza of my pain.
Why would I want to share it over and over again?
You won't hear a peep after tonight
If I grip this pen any tighter, shatter, it just might.

All for the well being of my dignity.

So here's the last few lines of my pointless rants
and since everything is staying in my mind,
would you like to dance?
Maybe my feet will deliver the anguish
that may send you in a spellbinding moment
or have your toes burning
from my left-footed stance.

Take me home.
No, I don't need to talk about it.
I already told those empty bottles my darkest secrets.
Maybe they'll be the ones to keep it.

-*-this is one of my weird poems...-*-