To
my arms
I
don't know what you did
that
was so bad
that
I would spite you
turn
on you
carve
the lines I couldn't write
right
into you abuse you
not
almost
but
most definitely
what
else could be as cut
as
definition
what
else could be so selective
composed
as art
why
should it be you
I
shouldn't hurt
but
I still do
I
cant blame it all on you
although
you blame me
haunt
me
betray
and serve me
nightly
even
as you go and type these words
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