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Chardome Ruben


One centimetre

One centimetre

 

 

Cold air, rough on my red cheeks

Blood on my hands, which I made myself bleed

If you saw me on the edge of death

Would you take away the words you said?

 

Like a crow in the night you were always complaining

Like a dandelion, at every angry blow I was self-erasing

You said if you didn't feel it then you wouldn't fake it

What would I have to do, to make you admit it?

 

If the headlines press the words on the paper

My name, black on white but red on your hands

On the bars of the prison in your mind, they linger

Would it remind you of the pain and your unreachable demands?

 

So if I hear the sirens and see the red and blue

The crows would fly away to keep on haunting you

In a hospital bed, that with my hurt I'd share

Would you show up then, would you then care?

 

And if the machine broke and my heart fell asleep

If the skies cried out, to cut you so deep

If the clouds’ tears fell on your hair again

Would you feel some sadness, would you miss me then?

 

If I lay quiet, on my bed of morphine

Listening to the lullabies of my wooden coffin

You would probably try to plead your case

But would you kneel on the grass, tears rolling down your face?

 

It doesn’t matter, because now I'm here, on the edge of my mind

Still balancing, where no one could find

If I slipped one centimetre more

Would it make you love me, like you did before?

 

 

 




Envoyé: 18:57 Sun, 24 March 2024 by : Chardome Ruben age : 16