don't write me

empty stock, you're flailing fluttered through the breeze
so perfectly unlocked, just paining in comparison
you can't stain this part of me, this part is shallow
you'll never attain this part of me, this part is callous
you'd be robbed and beaten if i could follow my instinct
left waiting, only waiting for me to feel some distinct guilt
i won't touch that side, not for your empty pleading, not from shallow breathing
you can hold tight to hope, but it's hopeless, any part of me to attain is flawless
and your flaws rise sky high, don't cascade, you are a fucking mess
you are nothing to be touched, stay far away, you digress
to lower stages to unread pages, something i'll no longer be enraged by
you're no longer here, and i want nothing of you, i wish i were nothing of you
but still i'm half of you, and that half is something to detest
now i'm left with this split person, one which smiles, the one to desire, to celebrate
the other, it's murderous, it's terrifying, it cowers and holds nothing but hate
and i am sorry, i know it's cruel, but i'll say it anyway
i wish you were dead, i've wished for it every day