intertwined thoughts with yours stitched up wounds are open once again
appreciation of my silence will be held no more so close to your
desires but I will not encourage my blood to be spilled for indignity
and I would cry but it would kill all that I know still utter deceit
enters my flesh and I contemplate the end as I grasp for breath bearing
bloody memories while kneeling down letting my insides pour out and
my enraged memories won't let me open these wounds anymore.
