My soul sits here with you and she ponders.
The time in which you take to realise burns her skin,
The time in which it takes you to shatter her dreams is dangerous,
Your raunchy appeal, your mysterious nature, your sultry curves;
The combination to make you more lethal than the bullet you own.
Release her from your grip before she wallows in the same soup she was born in,
And terrify her no further.
You mortify her. Let go.
Scream at her once more, slice her wrist and scar her a few more times to make you feel better.
Claim you were there for and then forget about her.
Her degradation is shameful. No longer will she hold her head high.
No longer will she feel again.
I stood there waiting; hand held out, but you never came.
I was supposed to take you to her and you left us dangling.
She died because you were too careless to see her falling.
She died because you were too preoccupied to lend her a helping hand.
I blame you.
