I am your sweet dying angel
I have revealed myself for what I am
I have proved myself yours
I have ensured that every day
is torture
for surrounding myself with you

I have done nothing but love you
it is tearing me apart



See, the only thing I feel I can rely on are the strings,
stringentandpure,
clean and hopeless
just like me.
Me, see, me, I am your Queen.
I am your tub of Vaseline
I am the words from the sentences you string
and the water from the rags you wring
I am nothing you thought to bring
I am the finger with the ring
I am the lie without the sting
and the hopes you fail to sing
My fingers are on the strings,
and angel your eyes were never this wide,
not even when I split you in two and left you for dead.


how dare you.