A ditch, a ditch I lay, as my brain compiles, compiles with the echo of you, your words of hatred stings like frost
Bit after bit you spit on the split second I try to love.
No lets sit, and talk, but a fit, you made, that endlessly grew out of control.
I tried to speak, but the words could not seep through my tiny box that I hold.
Mommy dearest you hasten, so quickly: to clutter my brain with your drunken nonsense, and dare you utter me, the blame for this silly game, you called love.