Is it wrong for me to want to heal alone in my dark?
Is it wrong for me to question you, to know if you still hold my spark?
Can you still shine brighter than the sun when you smile?
Or am I just sitting here and living in a world of hopeless denial

Do my words have any meaning left, are you going to be my one regret
Why is it when we speak it feels like there is nothing left
Was it the attention or me that grew old for you?
Why do you put me on ice, like you’re Hitler and I’m a Jew

Do you still like to read my art and help pull me out of the dark?
Do you still smile when I write to and for you?
Or was it just a passing phase that kept you from being bored
Do you still like it when I rhyme or is it a complete waste of time

Do you prefer I write of blood and gore?
Should I kill a few people I’m just not sure
You were my reason and inspiration to write you know
Now again it seems I’m nothing to you anymore


© Brooklyn.C