exempt from your hands,
from your cruel demeanor,
from your lies,
from everything that is you.
looking at you makes me sick,
and the thought that one day i will have to return to you,
to stand over your grave,
and stare at your pale face,
isn't enough to make me happy.
i need to know,
that you won't ever hurt another again,
like you did me.
i have to be certain.
and until then,
i won't rest.