by You are nothing,
a mere reflection of me.
You are someone,
I never want to be.
I do not idolise you,
with your weak bleeding heart,
with ribbons of flesh fluttering,
as you tear yourself apart.
The rare times I see you,
I pity your frozen form,
and the way you still believe,
that one day you'll be warm.
You naively stare back,
your gaze often persists,
you think your safe,
with bleeding mangled wrists.
All the love you've given,
the love you've forced to make,
all the pain you've taken,
for someone elses sake.
You take it all for them,
so they claim "she understands",
is it surprising your wrists break,
when you hold this in your hands?
And this is why I hate you,
and cage you in a frame of brass,
this is why I never let you out,
from your prison made of glass.
a mere reflection of me.
You are someone,
I never want to be.
I do not idolise you,
with your weak bleeding heart,
with ribbons of flesh fluttering,
as you tear yourself apart.
The rare times I see you,
I pity your frozen form,
and the way you still believe,
that one day you'll be warm.
You naively stare back,
your gaze often persists,
you think your safe,
with bleeding mangled wrists.
All the love you've given,
the love you've forced to make,
all the pain you've taken,
for someone elses sake.
You take it all for them,
so they claim "she understands",
is it surprising your wrists break,
when you hold this in your hands?
And this is why I hate you,
and cage you in a frame of brass,
this is why I never let you out,
from your prison made of glass.
