Sunday Munich
"Smallest Tragedy"

dust has settled on my frame of mind,
misunderstood prices paid blindly for your sins,
remedies and resolutions unreachable from here,
past the point of solution.

but inside your eyes there's nothing left to see,
just a dull reflection of what i use to be ,
no more us just me and just you and just things that aren't true,
there's no more tolerance in me no patience no understanding,

i'm simply worn out run out of answers,
your foundation laid with confusion,
bruises my confidence in myself and in you,
and modern concrete and dreams,
perched on the verge of truth,
he reached inside my womb
and retrieved a circus of my masquerades,
dense, thick with facades and rotten with time,
and replaced inside my tiny belly ,
what he thought there sound be ,
and in my grew the smallest tragedy,
and what do you have to say,
silence breaks across your lips,
luscious and delicious darling deafened by your indifference,
my cradle up inside with my own shadows,
i find , find it hard , hard to see things for what they are,
i stuff and swallow them these razor sharp memories,
and they cut on the inside,
where it's most unapparent to you