I’m sitting in my room dark and empty
Nobody to hold me
Nobody to care
I’m thinking of all the fu*ked up stuff
I just want to die
Knifes I love you
Blades you sting
either way you
make me believe
I’m still alive
You could run from someone you feared, you could try to fight someone you hated. All my reactions were geared toward those kinds of killers – the monsters, the enemies. When you loved the one who was killing you, it left you no options. How could you run, how could you fight, when doing so would hurt that beloved one? If your life was all you had to give your beloved, how could you not give it? If it was someone you truly loved?
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