Sunday, January 25, 2009

I Loved You

I
Quantities of pain don't come in small doses
They wash over you like a tidal wave
Of knives just like in Little Mermaid
Only that there is no happy ending

II
Rock-a-bye Baby, under the tree top
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock
And when the tree bough is sick of it's ward
Down will come Baby, in tortured dischord

If purgatory's better than hell
Then not to choose, I wish you well
Just remember, both's got the smell
Of death waiting, for your soul to sell

III
Because more often than not
The alternative isn't that much
Better than you make it out to be.
Because it looks as attractive as
An escape route in a smoke house
Is to a pig, squealing for life
In manure and filth, not in fire.
Useless in other uneventful circumstance
But especially appealing when it's cooking time

xoxo
Bex

Posted by Rebecca @ 8:46 PM