With each and every word I
Speak and fail, and every motion
I make of loves comfort,
Fails in touch, burns without passion
Set aflame my anger and frustrations,
(You were never ready.)
With loves pressing i wither,
Her emotions set a distance and
She contains herself, her own web of spite
“Failure, your fault, laughing at me?â€
(God, love, angel, whatever you are!)
I was born to be this slug you see me as,
Why dare say you love me?
(Child), yes I was a child of fortune to meet her,
(She will cast you aside just as soon as she realises,
She engaged the maggot you told her you were)
That she’s rotting because a carer with a repulsive heart,
(BURNS), without this passion…
So, burn with me angel,
Or let go,
Either way, I’m your child
(And I’m most certainly,
At your mercy…)
