he's dangerous, such a dangerous kind of man.
you can see it in his eyes, sometimes they almost seem evil.
while they may be soft, his hands tell a whole another story.
when his hands touch me, the darkness in his fingertips seeps through
and they stain me with black blotches and unheard of obscenities.
like a piece of paper, he writes all over me with a dark ink that cannot be erased.
everyone can see the marks that he's made, and those he continues to make all over me.
he is dangerous, and he is the ink that you see all over me today.