Will you bleed out in ink,
When I begin to write?
Or will you laugh like all the rest
And say I’m just some drama queen?
I’ve slain a thousand dragons
Underneath my skin
I burned through bottles, cans, and flagons
Gluttony’s my sin
I’ve given over every inch you asked for
And in return I find
A laugh and in mirth’s dying light,
An empty, hollow place to hide my words.
Words like scars and burns upon my flesh
Hopeless, deserted stretches of starlit road and twinkling reflectors
But when I’ve run round back to you,
Will my words mean a thing?
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