Seven magpies on my window Whispering amongst themselves From seven to one My sorrow wasn't visible to the naked eye As I was the only who could see my own brokenness I was the barer of my own sorrow
One year to, two years But it felt like an internity What was innocent turned cynical And what was love turn to your lust and deep desires. Like a puppet with its puppeteer I followed the way of your ropes
Consent but at the same time none A choice but also none Pulled into the sick world in which is your mind I was an experiment for your curious self And just like that I lost myself in you
What once was pure is now stained forever Love is not what I thought it was or could be For your love is sick and contagious hurting everything you touch Especially me, my outside appearance shows not the ruins of my insides But I am the barer of my own pain and sorrow