One Good Reason.

[rewiiired]

My throat burns
from years of silent screaming,
but you're a pill that would be
bitter to swallow anyway,

and I've got no cold drink
to wash you down,
so maybe time and space
will heal me;
maybe I can find solace
in seeming futility;
maybe I need to walk
through this mine feild
to find the real me,

but I'm breaking
at the seams now,
I'm breaking at the seams, and you
judge a book by it's cover
and the reviews
written by others,

but maybe you're
too blind to read me;
maybe you're near-sighted
and need space for security;
maybe I pick the scabs,
reopen old wounds because
I like to bleed, I need to bleed,
and this is a perfect mix
of sadism and masochism.

Watch as one hand ruthlessly
stabs the other, ruthless
stabbing and slashing
and the winner
answers the question,
hears the sound of
one hand clapping,
just one hand clapping,
till it dies in it's victory.

But you,
you could be my rope of sanity
because I just have
a thread left of my own
and I'm half inclined
to make a noose
and hang myself by it
work my neck so thin
that I could
never swallow you.

So give me one
good reason,
give me one
good reason.

Because I'm
itching to bleed
but I find that there's
nothing left in me.

Give me one
good reason.
One good reason
to keep on digging.