James Dionne

Through With You

I'm Done breaking
my Heart for you.

The pain is done,
and now I'm Through.

You think it's a Game,
bite More than could chew.

When the Blood is Spilled,
I Hope yours comes, too.

Just six rounds in chamber,
and two cigarettes left.

One bullet for you, though,
because it's for your theft.

Crank my love and burn it up,
light it and take a good hit.

Frankly, my dear, I care not.
Pull trigger and oust med-kit.

Fruits of labor and expression,
are demise and senseless to me.

You turned the other cheek, save face,
live with your young love, and die glee.

Your name is synonymous with hate,
gluttony showers your intention.

Add me to your list; 'heart-broken fools.'
That's right, to your growing collection.

Sinister saint of God's hatred loves now,
another oblivious one turned tame.

Among beauty comes ignorance and pain,
and now that One must face their future shame.

Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 10, 2009

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