I drink out of the sharp edged cup of truth.
Eat my reality off the dirty plate unwashed for days.
I tried to sip the juice of the unaware but found it bitter.
I tried to eat off the clean plate of ignorance,
But the food there was tasteless.
I use the tainted utensils of the corrupted.
Trying to use the fine cutlery of the innocent
I find a foul metallic after taste burning my throat.
I feast with those aged by unpleasant history,
broken by a harsh past.
Attempting to dine with the pure,
only to find myself unwelcome amongst them.
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2 comments:
You remember when I told you, a long time ago, that I would never leave? I'm afraid that those months that we didn't really talk, it might have come off as me leaving. I didn't, I was there, and I still am. Don't ever forget that...
so I just realized something; you might not know who I am. maybe, anyways, it's emily, so you know for serious now.
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