You stab my chest with your knives.
Your Judas kiss.
I’m left to bleed in the cold rain of my tears.
The flow longs to poison your pictures: it thrives.
All that is left are stained images of yours.
'No longer will I waste my time', while I stared at the floor.
Into a deep and dark slumber I dive.
Hoping I’ll never wake again.
Open your eyes, but do not want to see the pain.
However, my sleep ends, opening my eyes,
They glare to see the wounds are healed.
Then, in a flash of instant blindness, I’m once more kneeled.
Begging for mercy and the hope of an illusion.
While you insist to play with the buried bones
And to tease the never fading bruises.
Turn your back, take the knives,
And do it all again, with all my remaining lives.