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Rated: GC · Poetry · Emotional · #943562
We have a strange relationship.
You and I-
we fit together like
a bandage and twig
as one twists 'round the other
like this...this.

One minute, you prance
fall down and cut yourself.
The blood flows from you
in the most twisted wet dream.

You can't stop it on your own.
No way!
It's too heavy, so you
reach for the end solution....

(I am your tourniquet.)

You can't control
the flow, the flow of bitter
liquid that composes you, sustains you.

You can't stop the drain,
for you inflicted it upon yourself.

Decades of pride
escape the confines of your shell
as you reach for me,
the strangling force present before.

My words ultimately
will save your life,
but because you reached nearly too late,
a part of you will be sacrificed.

The gushing stops.
Now what? A trickle
makes it descent to the pavement.

The white bandage on you
restricts and halts
the deluge of sustenance.

The twig is the
valve that determines
how long you have to live.

I oughtta let you bleed.

You stare at the setup
unsure what to do.
How much can you rotate (twist me)
before you can't see a thing?

You're half tan, half white.
A purging shall take place.
You hear my clarion call-
"Turn it one more time!"

A twist...that's all it takes.
(although I ought to let you bleed....)
One step. You're done.
The flooding has stopped.

You look all around you.
What do you see?
A pool of black liquid.

Looking at what you've held back,
you hear me again and again.
My words haunt you
as you barely escape your death.

My voice...my voice.
It keeps echoing in your head
as you look at the bandage, the tourniquet.

At what price would you pay
to live up to your pride?
What would you give
to be better than everyone else?

What will you risk
for the awards and glory?
Will you risk the loss
of the greatest prize of all?
Would you give that up?

You nod in a delusion
as if I'd speak to you again.
You're lost, and you know
that the damage has been done.

It was done when you first said
"Fuck you! Get out of my life!"
I was hurt and wounded,
but I was not saved by a tourniquet.

My only saving grace was
the support I received.
That support helped me become the tourniquet.

My words could carry
wisdom in spite of my innocence.
I had a great weight
in this free floating world.

I knew that my influence had
been way too strong
for you to simply push me
out of your mind.

So as you sit and wait
for the help that will never come,
you know only now the decision you made.

One last look at the bandage
proves you were wrong.
You know for a fact there's only one truth.

Your pride made you careless,
and only now do you see that
you are my enemy
and I am your tourniquet.
© Copyright 2005 Elisa the Bunny Stik (soledad_moon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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