Victim’s Requiem


Is it really that way, or do you lie?
What misfortune have I, to call you mine
You plague me and hate me and make me cry
The blood you draw stains me like cherry wine
Your grim heart gives the Devil a shudder
And your cruel fists leave me torn asunder
I love you, that is it, despite the pain
Yet you leave me cold in the pouring rain
I crawl back to you, drunk on your foul love
You’ll surely be the death of me, my dove
Your eyes and words like miniature knives
Catch me and cut me and dim my soul’s shine

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