Sick of It All

tired, love, little girl

Sick of It All 

And I am sick of the faces,

Sick of the pretentiousness,

Sick of your lying, the way you make me feel like flying,

Your deceitfulness.

 

When I am with you,

The windmills could keep turning,

I would not notice,

The drought could be broken by rain,

I would not care.

 

I couldn’t,

Because I wouldn’t understand

How I could ever need them,

For the happiness,

Or the pain you give me,

And that little girl inside.

 

So that she, once shy,

Once willing to die,

Is now bold, commanding,

Expecting.

 

She needs no love �"she stopped wishing for it when

She realized it came with hurt

As roses do with hateful thorns �"

She will never be ready to hold love again in her palm,

Never know how to cradle love in her heart

Surrounded by vast oceans of water,

Of tears.

 

It seems love cannot exist

Without heartbreak.

But she doesn’t know this,

Refuses to hear it,

Love cannot touch her, she is protected.

 

She winds her arms tight around her own body;

She asks for no rose,

No thorns, no love,

Nobody.