Hair thin lines are engraved into my skin. Paper thin slivers travel over me again and again. Emotional tears break open and wounds bleed my sentiment. The Ravens gather as they wait for me to fall into my grave. Your words slice me only on the surface, my inner soul is buried already beneath a heart of stone. Try as you might you only slightly wound me, but with enough attacks I may be undone. Instead of grievously striking me with an open attack, you slice and cut me from all directions. You leave small wounds that culminate in my weakening. Finally I see the shadows gathering around me as the light begins to dim, the Ravens caw as they await my demise. Slowly I feel my emotional life slipping further away as I am dying from a thousand cuts your words have made in me.