It's too late for me,
I can't grow from dry dirt.
I want to stay,
but I have no one to.
I want to run,
but I have nowhere to.
I stand beside a ghost.
We're following our shadows,
to find our way home.

Real or fancied—
my poor eyesight cannot tell,
but my heart feels the difference.

My promises made rules,
but my writing hand is trying to bend them.
the office of a prison warden
is just a fancy cell.
I'm an outlaw legislator.

I swore I won’t ****.
I just need a place
to bury this last corpse.
His ghost just wants to rest,
but he lost his shadow,
and I can’t trust my own.

I break something once,
but I tell its story a thousand times,
hoping the words could undo it—
every time.

I wished it was your hands
instead of that rope.
I wished that redness
was in the shape of your fingers.

When everyone finds out you are a liar,
you can't lie anymore.
Everything that you ever say
will become meaningless
in every ear—
even your sincerest truths.

I tried to hide it
between the lies.
But you know the truth.
You know I am a liar,
because I promised you.

I ******* promised you...
didn't I?