i thought i was over this that i’d healed my heart but i suppose i’ll never be that’s the tragedy of this art

i watch how she charms you just like all the others before runs her hands through her curls why i watch, i’m still not sure

she says something funny you lower your head hiding your smile oh, it fills me with dread

she drinks from your cup i think i’ve seen it all her spit mingling with yours while you stand there so tall

your eyes, they sparkle tracing her face with her hand in yours she’s won the race

i thought i’d moved past you but i’m back to the start my obsession will consume me but i guess that’s the tragedy of this art.

a great man was born in dublin, 1939 oh, a country torn by many a wretched swine

with more siblings than fingers on two hands born to a clan deep in the lands

brought to a small home on the wrong side of the Liffey oh, but his heart did roam told his Mam he’d be back in a jiffy

for how could he predict he’d meet an english girl Islington they had picked they were married in a whirl

a kind soul was she trained as a nurse always a little carefree read out a bible verse

soon enough they had four kids to call their own they’d say “Look Dad! We’re finally all grown!”

because soon they left too just as he had done before loved each other through and through what a family to adore

but this great man never had someone to share his interests at the banjo he wasn’t bad played his irish tunes with no diffidence

years and countries down the road his kids had kids too but that was just as his pulse slowed and illness he couldn’t push through

oh, Grandad what a shame i was eight at your wake but i carry on your name the love you couldn’t shake

for i too have a banjo now and i love the black velvet band so, for you, i’ll say a vow i’ll keep the family grand

been piecing together a family tree it’s taken me five years i hope you’d be proud of me i can almost hear your cheers

so, Grandad, what i’m trying to say i’d like to have properly known you but your legacy will live another day i’ll piece the parts together with glue.

“i have to go to greece tomorrow” i assumed you were having another breakdown or midlife crisis

“why?” i asked your best friend’s mother was dead “oh.” is all i said

because what am i supposed to say? i knew her, of course i did ever since i was a baby

brightly coloured lipstick and a lust for life- the ultimate rejection of her old age

am i supposed to feel something? because i don’t feel much of anything but i am sorry for their loss

your best friend needs you and so you’ll fly away tomorrow to wipe away her tears

it did make me think, though about what will happen when i grow older and death starts to reap my friends

i’ve never been good with grief or processing any kind of emotion really so i sit here in silence

but don’t take my reaction personally i haven’t felt anything in a while i guess that’s the truth

so, you have to go to greece tomorrow and i hope that death doesn’t come back for a long while

but i guess we can’t control that any more than the changing of the tides or the love within our hearts

i’ll see you on sunday, though i’ll have done two exams by then don’t feel bad- i want you to go

because while numbness may hold my hand anguish tugs on your heart so it’s the least that i can do

“i’ve booked my flight now, the funeral will be on friday” “that’s soon”

“that’s how it is in greece” the long silence rang in my head “oh.” is all i said

darling, do you remember? the night i found you there six feet under woodland moss you were too bloodied to care

i pulled you from the roots the trees held you as their own you folded into my calloused hands i said “my love, we’re going home”

carrying you from the forest a trail of blood swam on our tail the pellets beat down on your skin first signs of a reckoning hail

the years came and went but you never said a word still, i gained hope every time you stirred

one day a spirit called came knocking on our door she took one look at you and said “oh, it’s a shame to be so poor”

for i couldn’t afford to mend you with any spell from a merchant’s tent so i sat and listened to your breathing without a penny spent

but the spirit she was kind offered to heal you for free placed a kiss upon your forehead and willed you to come to me

your eyes fluttered open two pale butterflies mine closed from the weight of the heaviest of cries

you placed your hand on my cheek said “thank you, my dear” i thought we’d be happy now but your future’s “oh so clear”

for you had to return to the bog the same one from which i’d saved you because is it really saving when you don’t have all the clues?

because your home was the forest i mistakenly thought it was me but there’s not love lost, darling i lowered you under your tree

one last look and you were gone but i didn’t waste those years because when i turn around i see the spirit there to catch my tears.

“look at us” she said i’ve heard it countless times unbelievable truths can’t spill out of the confines of rhymes

“our reputation precedes us” and that at least is true because who would think the good girls could have ever done this to you?

but i am sick of relying upon my carefully crafted good name doesn’t the world have the right to know i share in the sinners’ shame?

with a sickening smile and a flick of my hair your life has been ruined it’ll never be fair

selfish, perhaps we are but it would always come to pass as will the chiming of the bells the shattering of the glass

i’ll lay roses upon your grave the same one i lowered you into why do i always do the dirty work? spit out what they couldn’t chew

i’m so close to breaking now my persona is quietly cracking let me guess, another coup? our crimes continue stacking

“you’ve done nothing wrong” of course, thanks to my good name everyone else is always the villain but in truth, we’re one and the same

because despite my guilt i won’t alter the course of fate i’ll cut off another girl’s head i’ll deliver it on a plate

but this time my blood will spill over the edges of the table i’ll take responsibility for this murder i’ve gotten quite unstable

so drag me to my prison cell swing me from the gallows let hoards of my victims watch as my life, my face sallows

let me say goodbye to those who knelt to crown me i won’t be here to answer your cries i fear this act may drown me.

am i an awful person? the answer they tell me is no

but see, i think i am after all, aren’t i actively blackmailing someone?

“not blackmail” you say but i’m holding on to evidence that we both know is dangerous isn’t that the same thing?

it’s for my own safety that’s what i say in case you try to destroy me i can prove that i was never the villain

sadistically i want that want to have our fight out in the air i’ve never caused drama before but now i’ve got a taste for blood

they’ll ask me why i’m doing something about it now i’ll say that i’d never pick a fight unless i knew i could win it

so am i an awful person? truthfully, i don’t care because i’ve been nice for too long forgiven too much

i think it’s time some i got my sweet, sweet revenge

if i look at old photos for too long i start to feel sick a nauseating, earth shattering sickness

in those moments before the flash time seems to stretch out forever

everybody holding poses sucking in stomachs knees creaking from the weight of crouching

then suddenly it’s over and they’ll forget all about it.

until one day many, many years later a sad girl who sits alone

rotting away in her room feeling everything at once but then again feeling nothing

will stumble across it once more and with tears in her eyes wishing that little girl hadn’t disappeared

she had so much life in her so much hope, so much joy words can not express the weight of her loss

because now the girl has no life she is but a breathing corpse with withering joy yet still somewhere hope

so she puts away the picture temporary revelation gone with it wiping away tears before her parents worry

and she goes down for dinner just like she does every day ignoring the soul of the girl in the picture

so suddenly it’s over and she’ll forget all about it.

a chill had started to spread over the inches of my body a fire had already been lit you cursed everybody

of your own femininity oh, how you’re scared i would have laughed sooner but oh, how i cared

because we were friends or so we used to say but friends don’t kill your soul each and every day

and i tolerated it for so long probably could for some more but some things i can’t forgive you’re rotten to your core

you crushed all my friends and i won’t call them ours that luxury you forfeit when the taste of your name sours

where did you learn to act like the most manipulative of men? “you’re being dramatic” you said again and again and again

please, get over yourself you think the world revolves around you think we care enough to not question every lie you constantly spew

so maybe i’ll take a page out of my own revenge handbook i’ve gotten quite a bit of practice lately your world will be quite shook

and maybe when i’ve lit a match to your name, your ego, your cries we’ll all feel a little lighter without your intangible, incessant lies

oh, would you look at that? the sight of you being dropped out of the door of our lives and just like that the chill stopped.

“i wish i had never let go” is that what you want us to say? “come back, i need you” but that isn’t our way

at coups, oh, how we excel stage one whenever we get bored and the consequences they reap? a luxury we will never afford

it’s always for a reason, though or at least so we tell ourselves because what’s another lie to stack up on the shelves?

of course, we’re never the villains good girls who always behave the ones who wrong us burn at the stake just poor souls they couldn’t save

but naturally we’re complicit none of us may go quietly now we must silence you before you think to denounce our final vow

circle you like vultures closing in on their prey you’ve got a mark on your back, honey how i wish there was another way

teeth pierce your flesh and the blood boils over anguished cries you scream better wish upon a clover

some feverish hours later we may emerge from the slaughter licking blood from off the pavement oh, we gulp it down like water

sure, we may feel bad or is it a careful illusion? but temporary is guilt when you live in pure delusion

as one who polishes her fangs could never truly hope to be as innocent as they say she is but for now i guess we’ll agree to disagree.

the city of stars it called for me with rooftop bars places to see

i was only young it made me sick clothes i wrung a smoke, a kick

overcompensate i did for who i would always be a scared, lonely kid a low, wailing plea

the freedom is rare they watch your every move to speak up you wouldn’t dare in case they all disapprove

the girls, fake tan and bleach licking sticky, strawberry lips like lemons on a beach a sour that always drips

from the fangs they try to hide beneath careful, curated laughs to spare your fragile pride they don’t want your autographs

the energy is gone from the life you once had decay has started to spawn i’m sure it makes them glad

because angels don’t run this town in fact we’re far from that blood drips from the crown fueled by idle chitchat

so i’ll pack up my car but find the tires all slashed we’ll never get too far the dreams this place has dashed

but there’s one thing i ask one final plea don’t let me die under a mask take me far, far away and let me finally be free.