I can see the blades you've placed

The ones you dance upon (On which you squirm)

Forcing movements that beg us to believe that the pain is foreign

You don't know what it is to be gutted

A black knife, searing and hungry

What I wouldn’t give to find its home in you (twist)

To find your fear and pray it dissolves you

Soft hands and a soft mind

A self-loathing, self-righteous excuse

Your suffering’s endless

I watch you carve your skin

Milked ribbons they coil and wilt

A bloated gut oozing your sorrow so slow and tender

Weakling, may your sorrow bring fruition

I hope that you find the pain you believe this world has built for you

Your feeble shell crushed beneath a steady and rigid boot

A whimper, a whispered weakness, a miserable fetal heart

That only knows the warmth of a guiding hand

Insect, craven, deceiver

Never to know the flavor of accountability

Your tongue’s made sweet with pity and pleas

You grow richer with every limp-necked sorrow

You miserable fucking coward

Victim

And you deserve the worst that this hard and indifferent world has to offer