Your cries don't help,
my forgiveness shows no worth.
Push me around like I'm nothing.
New voices are heard and bury mine
and all from the past.
I wonder if this was release for you or for me;
if the fault was yours or mine.
My words were true and actions just.
You just do it for the freeload; the thrill and the rush.
Destroyed, delicate vine,
will you ever be made into sweet red wine?
Only time will tell,
and even then, I will you well.

EDIT:
Actually, you reopened by wounds.
The blood pours out soon,
and there goes my words of mercy.
You know I'll always take you back,
but there will be a time
where I'll finally be sick of your lies.