Blindness

I loved it, even after it died
After it tried to kill me
Before I saw it for what it was
Then I loved it some more

I couldn't feel it killing me
Or maybe I didn't want to
Maybe deep down inside
I believed I was killing it

But then how do you kill what isn't alive?
I swore it was alive inside of me
But I was the only one
No one else could see it

They said "it's like beating a dead horse"
I couldn't see any horse
And if it was dead
It surely wouldn't have got far

Maybe it was a metaphor
But I couldn't draw the comparison
What do a dead horse and love
Have to do with one another?