It's about time I set this record straight.
All this verbal refuse is making me irate.
Hands on my face, this is overbearing.
I am at my lowest low and I have stopped caring...again.

So this is it, I hope you're happy now.
How the story ends only time will tell.
I never once needed your help.
I sure as Hell don't need it now.
So go ahead and dig your grave.
'Cause when I'm done you'll need a place to lay.
Why did it have to come to this?
My mouth's a gun that I can shoot and you should know that you're dead in my sights.

The words you said are ringing in my head.
They are now apart of me like tattoos on fresh skin.
I hope that you can live with your shame.
I feel all too final and all I see is red...again.

So save your breath I will not care.
I think I've made it very clear.
All I need is her love.
Nothing more and it's enough.
Why can't you just see me for me?
Without the obvious impurities?
I never claimed to be a saint.
But one thing that I know for sure is I can change and it's never too late.

by Erwick Brandon

Other poems of BRANDON (29)

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