It treated me good enough,
living my life through chemistry.
Until I met a wildfire
and begged him to rid me of all other remedies.
I'd trace the veins of his arms
and watch as lightning danced in his eyes-
I swear, if perfection was illegal,
he'd be doing 25 to life.

Devotion comes as natural to him
as the marrow does to his bones.
But me, I'm a wretch
and such a storm is my only home.
Stuck between the cracking concrete
and a razor wire fence-
I'll be alright for awhile,
but what happens when boredom presents?

Because when nothing's ever enough,
he's the one put at a disadvantage.
I swear I never meant to be the one
adding any weight to your baggage.
But I cant speak for the ticking timebomb
sizzling and sparking in my brain.
And when the timer runs out, I might just
pull the trigger and destroy myself in vain.

Once the storm has cleared
and all that's left are ashes,
I come crawling back to you;
not even sure of what happened.
Was I pulling my own strings?
Am I really that unaware
that I'm my own puppet master,
steering myself towards total despair?
© ramblingneurotic