"Stretched across me was a spark of lightening,
One touch that tore me to pieces.
What was it,
I did,
for him to derail my mind
across these broken eyelids.
I gave it my all,
like a worn-torn work horse being incarcerated.
like the crimson that soaks past my skin and bones
I bled into him all my secrets and gave him a throne.

Up so high,
he held the crown.
How could I revoke him Of my throne,
those dark eyes that I thought were so warm.

Yet remember,
who wants to be left alone in such somber berth.
For when you remember the dark,
it is just a cold hole that we bury our deceased.
What was it I saw?
past those bleak cold eyes and the filth that lines his jaw.
I thought I saw beauty and power.
yet I lay here,
strewn back from his knife,
full of remorse for giving him my all.

Ill crawl back,
take all that is rightfully mine.
take a needle and thread and sew back my mind.
How could I give him all of my possesions?

For now,
No matter the Threads that keep my mind asleep,
I shall be forever scarred from the possesions he keeps.
The heart that has bled to such extensions,
facing my fears beyond my own dimensions.
My eyes that seep through their own salt,
through the dark rivers and seas that are left from his defaults.
My lungs that once breathed crisp air,
now breathes in my own lonesome despair.
a voice,
faint,
and sweet.
Was once stronger than the work horse,
that is now tied in the keep.
So here I shall hand off,
those glories I once owned and cross my lists off.
A number sequence of goals forseen,
For they shall die beneath this silver sheathe,
that goes through the work horse,
Where his crimson will stain my throne,
That I worked so hard to keep."