A martyr to love you can hear his cries
killing the joke he's always despised

bruised, battered, bloodied, broken
dwelling in the void where hope is woven

here are we; oblivious, transparently caring
blind to the torture at which we're staring
fooling him again, injecting pleasure into his silly brain
you do nothing but smile as he grows insane

what is it I should feel now
loss, anger, sorrow?
Is it normal to feel this uncaring
fixated on starting again tomorrow?

Here am I
eyes flashing in fury but without thunder
hot bathwater rising up my face
ears blind to the world I slip under

nothing but the muffled beats of my heart,
at first she was interested
but in bitterness now we part -

the 12am chimes call shrill and loud
in the pale lover's abyss he can be found
a figment of my ego, he's cold, pallid in state
stealing innocence he twists and pulls and manipulates

dressing in suits and designer attire
luring any woman that takes the time to admire
ignorant to society, forges his own fashion
dangerously devoid of any emotion or passion

sick from the sleep deprivation
sick of waking up with eyes bloodshot red

he collects the souls of his many lovers
sipping at their lives as their bodies lie frozen dead.