Brutally broken are words unspoken.
Without an answer to why I left,
questions wonder in silencing deaf.
I cannot fathom why I pull apart art,
trapping beautiful painters in the dark.
Without light a canvas remains blank,
unless a blind man can picture a spark.
This world is full of mystery boxes,
I've only got one key to my pocket.
I cannot waste anymore time,
breaking into what isn't mine.
Trap doors do not always lead to treasure.
Secret passages may only get you lost.
Not every encounter will leave you pleasured,
each endeavor has it's cost.
I am a destroyer, somewhat a masochist,
breaking hearts then feeling sick;
but knowing I am missed makes me feel so fucking rich.
Forgive me, I forgot my filter,
must've dropped it in the woods;
where I bury all of the dirt,
in my mind of diseased goods.