And on the 243rd day...

Is it too much to ask?
To be thrown inside a glass.
A flask with just you and me;
stab holes so i can breathe.

Breathe? Is that an option?
For I feel suffocation,
no justification,
as her name rings round my head.

In this bleak demise,
is this what you're looking for?
I'm thrown down in your bed of lies,
can't snatch the colour, or win the prize -
no compromise.

Is this what you've become?
Nothing more than a liar,
a cheater.
So I'm scum?
On a scale of one to ten,
how much is she worth?
something so spiteful and putrid,
that releases such hatred,
that dishes out dirt.

What's the moral of this tale?
What's the genre?
Is it romance, no, it's horror.
Promises mean nothing,
not even when there's crying,
not to you.
No, not to you.