Giving In Poem by Fallen Pieces

Please, please, don't look at me like that
There's enough to have to deal with,
it's enough to drive me mad
Please, though, I beg of you
Don't remind me of all that
You're hanging me on the line of clothes
To dry outside, for others to behold
How obvious it is to see how filthy;
how dirty I've become
It's my withering deception;
I long for it's evanescence
To unsoil my subconscious;
my imperfect reverence;
My unrequited lust for vengeance,
the insolent impertinence
You stand there with scolding fingers,
scolding expressions; a fabricated prison
Don't you know it's been invented?
My so-called heart, a colorless prism
Please, please, do forgive me
and guide your hands toward mine
the warmth radiating from them
just may be enough to emaciate this taint.