My Precious Lamb

Mary had a little lamb,

and we all know that she loved that lamb with all her heart

but the problem is that you were my lamb

and I loved you more than I loved myself

or I thought I could ever love anyone in my life.

I spent so much time invested in you, in us,

in what could've been

to the point where I had lost all touch with reality

so I guess that's why it hit me so hard when you left me,

because I could no longer tell the difference between real and fake anymore.

I was blinded by a love that I never really had to begin with

but I was still trapped nonetheless.

now, instead of the white of the fleece that I would normally imagine and associate with a lamb,

all I can see when I think of you is red.

dark, crimson red.

red the color of my blood

as it flowed beautifully from my wrists and thighs and every other place imaginable after I hurt myself,

wanting to die

because I would rather do that then live with the fact that you left me because you hated me for reasons which I could not fathom or begin to understand

so I just sat there and cried

I cried a silent cry, laying on the floor

my body shaking uncontrollably

wishing I could feel the warmth of your touch just one more time

and as I write this now I don't picture a young lamb's innocence

but a cruel human being's evilness

and how you took joy in hurting me because everytime I would cry you would give that little smirk that I always mistook for compassion,

until I saw it as you turned your back on me

as I screamed your name down the empty hollow hallway

after you told me that we "just weren't working out"...

so I guess the biggest difference between you and Mary's lamb

is that instead of following me to school one day,

you left me

randomly

standing

waiting

for someone and something that I know I could never get back

but yet,

like a child after hearing a nursery rhyme before bed

I

Still

Dream