I let my gaurd down and you slither
between my cracks, wait for my consciousness to whither,
"Perfect", you so viciously whisper.

You shut the lights and cast shadows,
and I don't see these arrows
pointing at me in full view
while I'm blinded by the assumption
that I can trust you.

Shot in the heart,
the lights turn on,
with regret I stare into my blood
for the things I haven't done.