You were suppose to make me forget the first one who killed me. Make me forget the years of tears. The years of wanting what left so long ago. But
you added your own shots to the wound. Your own marks on my scars. It left me weak, dying.
More broken then the one before.
More weak then the one before.
Less hopeful,more cold.
Your painful beauty being the weapon for it all. Being what left me dead, left me empty,left me missing.
You were suppose to make me forget,instead you’re just another murderer on the list.