You are everything I don't need,  but grown within me like a crooked ****. If only I could find the key to unlock the shackles you've bound to me. The chains wrapped inside my bones and squeezing my soul. You are my disease that I'm never sure if I I want to cure. A love that makes my heart yearn but sore. I know inside I'm free to go but emotionally can't leave this sick freak show. You are my sickness and my fantasy. How can I leave so easily. My kidnapper, my lover, war,  peace, and my pain,  my calm and my storm. You've always said it'd be you and me. This is not true love,  just Stockholm Syndrome to me