Does anger domesticate the tranquility?
Being nothing more than a background scene,
I let the abuse happen, once again.
You were once everything to me.
An affair I deemed wonderful.
But you swore, we must keep in secrecy.
As battle wounds were nothing more,
Nothing less than scratches of the deserving.

And we fight under breathing
Settling, Laughing.
I was under the delusion that you were once perfect.
That everything that was done in your presence,
Was a tragedy to be blamed on me.
And it still is.

Demon in the mirror
Devil in the iris of an eye.
That's all you should mean to me.
But there is something more
The good veins to a heart that died.

Replaced by this
Sickness
This
Poison
This
****** Monster
That does nothing but,
Breathes the air
I once thought tasted so sweet.