Bonfire

Sorting out each mem’ry by date.
I always hated organization.
My label supply is running low;
I’m overwhelmed by humiliation.

To think I thought I’d run out of ink
Recording a stinking fink like you.
My recollection of damned deception
Isn’t worth a pretty penny.
To think I thought that I couldn’t link
This blist'ring hole inside my chest
To you through a skewed perception,
All that’s good, there isn’t’ many,
All that’s true, there isn’t any.

I’ve got plastic in my head.
I always hated pocket folders,
Weighing down my slumping shoulders,
Overwhelmed by humiliation.
The pressure is likened to lead,
Forced to face the world with smiles,
Blamed for blaming others’ files,
Shamed by my affiliation
With freedom.

To think I thought I’d run out of ink
Recording a stinking fink like you.
My recollection of damned deception
Isn’t worth a pretty penny.
To think I thought that I couldn’t link
This blist'ring hole inside my chest
To you through a skewed perception,
All that’s good, there isn’t’ many,
All that’s true, there isn’t any.

I’m having a stroke, as my mind is broken
The swelling from yelling is taking its toll.
Each of the wicked words you have spoken
Have stolen my sanity, sickened my soul.
Each sentence recorded has led to reflection
I cannot tell you how much I have learned
So I strike a lighter and start up a fire
It’s time these mem’ries of you have now burned.

I never enjoyed this damn pocket keeper
Full of painful experiences with you.
The hole you have dug within me’s getting deeper
I must end this madness before I’m consumed.
As all my memories erupt into flame,
I feel no regret and I feel no shame.
I can finally stand up and smile
Without feeling discomfort or pain,
And look down at the pile of ashes
And wonder…who was that person again?