Punk 57(110)
Hang on. You’ll find your tribe.
Penelope Douglas
Anything goes when everyone knows
Where do you hide when their highs are your lows?
So much, so hard, so long, so tired,
Let them eat until you’re ground into nothing.
Don’t you worry your glossy little lips.
What they savor ‘ventually loses its flavor.
I wanna lick, while you still taste like you.
Bookmark it, says the cheerleader
I promise we’ll come back to this spot.
I have shit to do first. You won’t wait a lot.
I can’t make her stay,
And I can’t watch her go.
I’ll keep her hellfire heart,
And bookmark it ‘fore it goes cold.
Fifty-seven times I didn’t call
Fifty-seven letters I didn’t send,
Fifty-seven stitches to breathe again, and then I f*cking pretend.
Fifty-seven days to not need you
Fifty-seven times to give up on you
Fifty-seven steps away from you,
Fifty-seven nights of nothing but you.
I’m just the punk who passed the time,
Your bouncing board, your secret little thrill.
Something tells me you’re close to breaking, “Cause I need to be more to you than just time to fill.
Bookmark it, says the cheerleader
I promise we’ll come back to this spot.
I have shit to do first. You won’t wait a lot.
I can’t make her stay,
And I can’t watch her go.
I’ll keep her hellfire heart,
And bookmark it ‘fore it goes cold.
A picture is worth a thousand words,
But my thousand words slice deeper.
What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger,
Fuck that. I’ve become a hide and seeker.
Treat others how you want to be treated,
But what if tonight I want to be burned?
You told us it’s better to be safe than sorry, And little sister listened, but I was the one who learned.
Reap, reap, reap, you don’t even know,
All you did suffer is what you did sow!
Alone, Empty, Fraud, Shame, Fear,
Close your eyes. There’s nothing to see out here.
Do better, be more, too many, too much,
I’m about to f*cking choke, I can’t force it down.
So string up the little wisdoms and wrap them ‘round my neck, I’ll strangle myself with your pearls of wisdom and die a wreck.
You told us to prepare now and play later,
But what’s in here is better than what’s out there.
I took an umbrella to save me from the rain,
But the lightning hit, and you didn’t care.
Reap, reap, reap, you don’t even know,
All you did suffer is what you did sow!
Alone, Empty, Fraud, Shame, Fear,
Close your eyes. There’s nothing to see out here.
Would you like to know more about Misha’s cousin, Will, and his friends, Michael and Kai? You can visit them in the romantic suspense series, Devil’s Night. The first book, Corrupt, is available now at all major retailers.
Please keep reading for an excerpt…
HE WON’T BE HERE.
There’d be no reason for him to show up at his brother’s farewell party, since they couldn’t stand each other, so…
No, he won’t be here.
Pushing up the sleeves of my lightweight sweater, I hurried through the front door of the Crist house and speed-walked across the foyer, heading straight for the stairs.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spied the butler rounding the corner, but I didn’t stop.
“Miss Fane!” he shouted after me. “You’re very late.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Mrs. Crist has been looking for you,” he pointed out.
I shot up my eyebrows and immediately stopped, turning around to peer at him over the railing.
“Has she really?” I eyed him with mock astonishment.
He thinned his lips, annoyed. “Well, she sent me to look for you.”
I broke out in a smile and leaned over the bannister, planting a quick kiss on his forehead.
“Well, I’m here,” I assured him. “You can get back to your important duties now.”
I turned and continued up the stairs, hearing the soft music coming from the party out on the terrace.
Yeah, I highly doubted Delia Crist, my mother’s best friend and the matriarch of Thunder Bay, our small East Coast community, was spending her precious time looking for me herself.
“Your dress is on your bed!” he called after me as I walked around the corner.
I exhaled an aggravated sigh and powered down the dimly lit hallway, grumbling under my breath, “Thank you, Edward.”
I didn’t need a new dress. I already had several I’d only worn once, and at nineteen, I could definitely pick out my own clothes. Not that he would be here to see it anyway, and if he was, he wouldn’t look at me.