I first asked why there is so much pain in being in love? but after a while my soul started to crave them. And then I romanticised my pain; to the point where I deemed it a necessary ingredient to any great love. There is an art in bleeding, wound to wound, death to death, and from you to him.
In the depth of the devil, I dared ask for a pebble, turning that into gold, I’ll accept a trading cold. A gentle penance of love forbid, her selfless commit. But by attrition she is destroyed, playing as the devil’s toy. Love she has, a different form, love she want’s long gone.
Sacrificing a lover to make deal with fate in hopes of making things better for families and friends. This is about how two people can't be together because of a bargain.
I think my love might be alive. Birthed in my loneliness, nurtured by you, lured into the fire, aged with a fool's hope, dressed in black, hungry for pain, looking for more, lived enough, waiting to die.
If I were to believe in love, I'd lose myself to the pain of not having it. If I were to believe in my future, I'd die trying to make it hopelessly better. If I were to believe in good, I'd cry while committing to the wrong-doings.
This leaves me no choice but to believe in the devil.
Who would have thought the titan of my heart has taken aim to **** me for selfish reasons. You are a dark design. And I don't deserve to be here bathing in your torture; and every time I think of you my heart dies another death.
There are limits; and I have them. People become different sapiens against the wall and under duress. You've pushed me, releasing the demons oppressed.
In me you've bred monsters. So hateful and am hating you. Let it bedevil you how my malice grew.
What is your plea? What is your plea? You've killed me with the care you never gave. The old me now rested on blood-layered grave.
In me you've bred monsters. I loved you too hard and now i'm turning monsters.
*******. This blood will stay wet for as long as I dare love you.