Voice of Wrong

You were my voice of reason in this hostile season.

Now you’ve become my voice of death and treason.

You were a picture of love and perfection,

but you’ve grown into a symbol of hate and rejection.

You had my heart and you were my light,

but now we’re apart as we grow and fight.

But somehow I find myself missing you,

and all your warmth and color’s hue.

 

You were the one who kept me sane,

you were the one who tore away the pain.

We crafted our love and life together,

my tattoo will always read: forever.

You were the voice that led me on as we wrote our song,

you were the voice that I listen to for too long.

But in the end I still find a place for you here,

but you’ll never return my darling dear.

 

You’ve turned your life into a beautiful mess,

preying on those who’re damned and less.

You’ve transformed and turned away,

but I’ll never mourn as you wonder astray.

I wish I had a day to remember,

one drenched in flames not embers.

Are those days gone because of my “voice of wrong”?

And somehow I still find myself missing you,

when I remember your color’s warmth and hue.

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