Tormented Days
Waiting in this car of his,
I watch him intoxicate himself with beer.
He looks spent and done.
I think of how I got here,
and of what I've become.
Looking at my shattered past,
I wonder what I've done
to deserve my ever-hating life.
Every day is like slitting my wrist with a knife.
The hours in each day are such a pain.
They are so hard to sustain.
He drives me home in the middle of the night,
but I don't think its right
I feel his cold hand like a mace,
and smell his alcoholic embrace
These effervescent lights I see,
change the car's solidity.
I feel blood running down my face,
and start to utter words in one last pace.
I know now that I will never have the white wedding dress I so crave,
but I will have a black dress in my grave.