Cupid's broken wings are bleeding down on me
Streaking my back a muddy red color.
He sits on high crying for my pain,
While far below I sucumb to it willingly.
Cupid and love have not forsaken me.
They're just too tired to work a miracle.
It would take too much out of them.
And I am understanding of them.
I am sympathetic to their toil.
I have labored after a lost cause too.
I have spent my hours longlingly obedient
To someone who was not sympathetic to me.
Staring at the walls, I've sat still
While Cupid and love spun pretty fantasies,
Which I willingly accepted as their gifts.
They were trying to help me forget
That my life is lacking the light
By giving me insanity to distract me.
They help drive me crazy in my bed;
Letting each emotion take it's turn...
Love, lust, longing, yearning, craving, burning...disgust.
And hate...
Oh yes. Hate must play it's part.
Hate comes when the light fades within.
When your greed forgets their happiness
And speaks in silvered tongues
Of how they should be yours and yours alone.
Cupid and love are jealously's cousins.
Where one shall go, the other two follow.
And here is where you find me.
Beyond the three, and helpless.
I stare at my own tears
Pooling on the surface of my pillow.
I'm staring at the warm yellow reflection
Of my lamplight in my tears.
Then the lines around my room fade
And the lights begin to blur
Into soft puffs of color,
And the darkness slinks in around me
And alone, in the dark, bathed in tears;
There and only there, I find peace.
There between the dark and the dreams.

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