Remember my awesomesauce incest poem? CHEK DIZ SHIET.
One that lacks your sentiment.
So you can imagine why,
I sat here all night to cry.
I waited for your call, my dear.
You see, the call not coming
was my greatest fear.
But now in depths so deep,
I'm afraid my doubts started to creep.
Legs folded up under me,
sky groaning and thundery,
the chills of the night were
sneaking up from behind.
Deep breaths I take,
slowly but surely I feel my
"The phone call won't come." I think.
But not just yet. No. I won't let that sink.
Check the caller I.D.
It reads not Frank,
and I feel as though my heart has sank.
Not my Frank, not my love.
Not my dearest gift from above.
It is not you, you see.
And to the dark I started to plea.
"You'll never take me alive.
Do what it takes to survive
and I'm still here."
The distant whispers start to appear.
They mock me faded,
they mock me hated.
"Nothing will protect him, my dove.
Nothing can save you, my love."
They whisper my regrets.
They whisper my fears.
To my head.
Not my ears.
"Look to your left.
Look to your right."
My eyes fill up with fright.
What I had saw was quiet a sight.
The bloody blade shimmers in the moonlight.
Why it was bloody, I can not say.
I reached for it anyway.
Seconds ticked by
as I waited and thought of why.
Why would I do this?
Because Gererard, because
"You will never get that first kiss."
And my choice is made.
I lift the razor blade.
Tears stream down my face
as I draw the blade to it's place.
Not so slowly, not so carefully, not so full of thought.
Out slips blood. The blood I brought.
The chrimson bliss of which I'd struck
whispers to me, "You're out of luck."
What seems like forever passes,
blood gushes out like
wine poured in glasses.
With a shakey arm I answer,
heart ticking slower than the clock.
Blood pools around my shaking form,
and the voice begins to talk.
Blood, blood, so much blood,
soaking everything but my hair.
There's a scream at the other end of the line,
"Gerard, Gerard! Are you there?"