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Manipulative Method


Oil and Water

All I remember is that night.

Our two bodies trying to dissolve into one another, but only become oil and water.

Seemingly unable to surrender into each other.

Somehow, he was still able to victimize himself in this tempermental mixture.

Holding on so tightly to his counterfeit innocence as if it’s genuine.

The only halos that ever hung above his head are the ones I blew from sweet smoke.

He was nothing but a boy who threw flowers at me, and called that love.

A boy who can arrange his deceptive words into a trusting guarantee, and make you feel safe as you sign your name on the dotted line.

Every girl he has ever manipulated into believing him is now dressed in his signature label of “crazy”.

Taking our secrets and passing them out to anyone with the ability to listen, just to give himself the upper hand.

Put your hand down. Put your words back in your mouth.

You find a new girl with every new season and call that “growing”.

You, with your finger pointing and excuses. Your reversed apologies and swindled arguments.

Your tongue used to produce tinsel tinted words; all that’s left is venom.

Your poison is now weaker than your dimmed ability to manipulate other‘s emotions.

Stop throwing barbed wire words to hide from your mistakes.

Find a new voice instead of a new love.

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