The Soviettes


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I guess you thought it would be fun to make your pain into
a game for someone. I guess
you didn't realize how hurt
and lies would color all our
lives. What you did to, so
residual, my yesterday. What
will I do to my tomorrow?
Will I take on, for forsaken,
my father's ways and I could
draw my own blood's blood? I
sometimes lie awake at dawn,
though wrong, love him now
he's dead and gone. The part
that loves him aches inside.
In deep it lies next to the
the scars I hide. I forgave
you when i gave you my wild
eyed childhood. How ddo I
fill my empty doors and frames? How do i get, born of

his spit, wise and mild? When
did all the colors run grey?
My life is gray, when will I see day?