I wrote to you to win your love,
filling my words with so much care that I broke my fingers and bleed them bare.
my emotion swirled within the current of thought, and for your heart; I daily fought.
but now you leave me in your pity, sullen, broken, and oh so empty,
for you gave me the venom of the heart.
you gave me false signs that numbered to many.
you who sat with a splattered smile and left me questioning all the while!
and with a blunt and stunted file you chipped me apart piece by piece
till no more love poured from my loins,
but rather wrath and anger, something full of self danger.
and there you left me
ever restless without peace.
mind racing and consuming, as if my hope would make me drown.
despair settles where unfulfilled love has ended
and you, O crucifier, have set forth the nails and crown.
so watch and gloat at what you've wrote,
wrote by silence, and through my malice
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