More poems by weareallmannequins

Throw me back.

There's a heavy Hand,
Punch thrown.
Sick smiles wait for me at home.

I can't be the cure,
When there is no disease.

Is it better to misplace that hate?
Or that trust?

Try not to vomit back those tainted,
Curses you just cast.

Kill the worm to catch a fish,
But there is no bite.

Pull more weight,
When the pain becomes less filling.

I'll just stop here,
And wait.
For a train I know isn't coming.