Oh dear lover
I show you my soft spot, where i would hurt the most and the next thing I know is you plunge a knife there.
Your knife in my most vulnerable spot,
I groan,
You complain "why would you react so?"
You twist your blade.
I can hear my muscles cutting, my bones crunching.
I grunt at the pain and at the wonder of your question.
You're irritated, I'm loud,
My cry is loud.
You withdraw your knife in anger. I hiss and I make gurgling noises,
I'm drowning in my blood.
The blood, pouring out from my body.
My vision, blackening, inch by creeping inch.
I look around for something, I find your knife The instrument of my destruction, but you are My instrument of destruction. I grab the knife to tear off a piece of my skin.
I take the knife to my hair instead,
I cut my hair,
My black wooly hair.
To staunch my wound.
I pack the strands into the wound.
To staunch my wound.
Anything, to staunch the wound.
And then I run after you. I'm running after the instrument of my destruction, I'm running after you to apologize for how I reacted t the pain you so graciously instilled.
I'm wiping away at my eyes, An attempt to clear my vision Let me not go into the arms of the devil instead. Mistake him for my lover.
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