I will leave your heart with battered bruises, warped, and full of hopelessness;

I plague many in the world, no one day-dreamer are exempt from my down-pulling spell:

I roll you and revel you relishly, ridding you of every dripping urge to smile.

In these places I hide, hide away;

Nature is untouched by me, only those with a knowing heart shake my hand,

My mark is left in countless places, wether the trail of scars along your wrist:

Perhaps the strewn bottles lining your sanctuary, along with the heavy waft of alcohol trailing your tongue:

I strike mercifully, where there is pain, she is my bride.

In these places I hide, hide away;

Wether yesterday or today,

In my world, the only concept is of being a stray.

And with my sincerest sincerity and heartlessness of hearts, know that I am here to stay.

 

 

What Am I?