The Finished Chapter: Poetry


I was once your sentimental reason,
your artistic little sin
I played your nighttime beacon
and let the all moonlight in

I was your rose in a barren field
and the solace from the war
I was your empathetic shield
and the flame that helped you soar

But I've paid my dues and left the scene
I'm now a thousand miles away
It's not my fault that I'm not green
to just believe the lies you say

Yet now you point the finger
saying I'm the one to blame
that my scent on you still lingers
and is strongest in the rain

But I'm not your tempest any longer,
I'll not be bound up like your Muse
Leaving you just made me stronger
and immune to your abuse

Now you are a finished chapter
and the bridge I set ablaze
as just some random character
I exorcise upon the page:

A Memory.


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