Delicious

They say they don't believe.
But then they will fall.
Way deep down.
Cascading into a pit.
Walled in red.
Painted over with black.
Pierced with pricks of light that blind you just long enough.
Just long enough to forget.
Forget the red walls.
The black paint.
And the fact that there is a world.
There is a perverted, apathetic world.
That doesn't care.
What's one more head of blond hair?
What's one more set of dull blue eyes?
What's one more tragedy?
Who wants to think about it?
Who has time?
Am I the only who thinks about the evening death toll victims on the news.
That realizes these were mothers, and girlfriends, and lovers.
Brothers, daughters, best friends.
It could be me.
And if our lives hadn't intersected.
You would hear my name counted among the dead.
And you wouldn't even flinch.
You wouldn't even think about it twice.
I was a daughter, a girlfriend, a sister,a best friend.
I had a life.
I had feelings.
I have no life.
I have no feelings.
I drift in a void of blackness.
And you hear my name.
The obligated remember.
The uninvolved don't acknowledge.
And you walk on free.

My lips kiss those of an unwanted warrior bleeding on the green.
In the commons of Rome.
I hold the hand of a girl lost in an alley in New York.
The man pulls up his pants.
He walks free.

And I bleed.

I can never shrug off the weight.
I will never escape the pressure.
I will always be this.
This thing.
Not even human.
Cause I haven't mastered the brusqueness.
Haven't found the ability to turn to stone.
With a touch of your finger tips,
I crumble.
I'm just waiting for you to start your dusting.
Cause you couldn't possibly want me.
Why would anyone?
I have nothing.
I will always have nothing.
I will always be nothing.
It's only a matter of time.
Before you figure it out.
That I'm just not it.
Then I will choose a method.
And take on a new lable of victim.
Dead.