all our faults, are all my fault
i don't hope to die; as i cross my heart
maybe my fingers too
& if i lie; it's cause i
don't wanna injure you
every inch of you
will cringe by the time this is through
have done nothing yet; yet, yet, is motive
as this note is, a premeditated notice
my guess is, it would hurt you less if
my confessions, weren't true
or put into question
often the truth is hurtful
shattering the heart & respect that earned you
couldn't fathom if there weren't you
while gathering evidence of abandonment, that deserts you
in need of a curfew to behave
or handcuffs, or a muffle to muzzle my leeway
because i'm a deejay; spinning my emotions on the freeway
crashing or coasting with passion
into a lonesome fatal attraction
who wants some, extremely nasty form of relaxing, like three ways
don't ask me about, he say she say
& don't put it past me, when she slides past me
that i'm not glancing
& my heart ain't dancing; racing like relays
like really; for trouble i'm asking
cause i hear me, not trying to mask the mask i'm wearing
steering into traffic; clearly
fingers crossed, hoping through my faults
you hear me & still stay near me
putting pause, to my thoughts
clearing the walls that i'm painting with tainted paws
merely crying for help
cheering you on to help save me from myself
fingers crossed
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