Peroxide Pity

You're so pretty
dripped in peroxide.
Strike a match and set you alight.
Watch the flames jump as the chemical stench
coils through the air and devours the
beauty of the sunset.
It's such a delightful contradiction.
Your porcelain skin melts and slides off your
paper thin bones.
I'll snap each one and smile as they paper cut my skin.
Your blood is my blood is our blood.
And I'm staining your smile with it.

I want to rip you apart in front of a mirror,
it's been so long since you've seen what you are inside.
Crippled and twisted, ashes and smoke
settling into your bloodstream.
It'll stop flowing in just a minute.
Your treacherous heart no longer beating out your
quickening breaths.
4-3-2-1
Pull out the tubes and needles,
no one wants to see you alive.
The faint beeping is proof that
the evil still lives in you somewhere.

Muffle it.
Stifle it.
Kill it.
Murder you.

I'll take your throat and caress it in my hands.
Oops, sweetie, I didn't mean to squeeze so hard,
but that shade of purple is just darling on you.
Your eyes dilate and bug out.
What's wrong?
Are you finally seeing us for what we are?
The same.

Too bad it took you a second too long.
Your pain is my pain is our pain,
and we're not missed.
The obituary failed to make page B4.
I failed you, you failed me, we failed us.
And now our pieces litter the floor;
can't be picked up again.
4-3-2-1.
We ran out of time.