You believe you will succeed in this. That you can stab us time and time again, without repercussions. Blame us for our own wounds. Stand in churches as though you are without fault. You cry to people of how you are the victim, when you are the killer in all of this.
I have watched too many hearts break
I have felt the pain too many times
To where I no longer feel it anymore
I’m completely emotionless, completely unfeeling, until you break little pieces of their essences off again
Until at the worst possible moment, someone is dying
And the hearts break again
Chipping mine to pieces in the process
I can promise you, you can’t win this. This is the short lived interval where you feel as though you have some control, but not for much longer.
The day is coming where my house does not even speak your name.
The day is coming where everything that belongs to my blood is back in my home.
For what is dead has no power here.
And you are no longer a warm body capable of claiming life.