Emo, He Is Poem by James McLain

i cannot be you, i can only see through you, into you.
i see what you do, with her, with him, your self, on me.
i see you from the package, you never used, until now
abused to cut, into me, when the splash, is you, in her.
i see through your mirror, you kissing you, how you
do it, to me, to you, inside running from me.you can't
see the blue gash on my head, i see you upside down
on deaths head, the blood dropps rip up through the hair.
your slip once pink, now clings wet, from the sweat
of abuse that she slings upon the wall of his shame, yet
once again the wooden plank slides between us to gaze
onto the screen of loves, troubled graze.your blackness
is her day, her cat is your friend, wear him in deaths, last kiss