Scattered at Night

Do you want to play a game?
Were your words when I was strapped down to the bed unable to speak.
You were close enough to touch, but for some unknown reason, my eyes couldn’t see.
Finally, someone wants me, but I don’t know who that someone could be.
You play your games late at night and it haunts me.
it pleasures me to be desired at the most undesirable hours, but
then you’re no comfort in the sunlight.
Maybe it’s because we both have secrets, secrets that can never come to light.
If they knew the real us, they’d never want us.
And that’s all we want. The comfort of being wanted is a warm blindfold.
I tangle with the devil at night and tip toe around Christ by day, but what can I say?
We all need something to believe in and who knows what the truth is?
To be honest, I’m so far from the truth my name should be a synonym for liar. I just don’t know. I’m so far withdrawn sometimes I don’t even know what the real truth is. I think it’s because I want to be wanted. I liked to feel needed, but I hate to be used. But even when I’m used my availability doesn’t waiver.
I’m lost, I’m cold and the dark is approaching, I guess I’ll see you tonight… that is if you want me.

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