Crafty and cunning,
prepare me for my public shunning.
Withhold my truth again.
How am I to defend?

Words screamed into my bleeding ears.
Am I consumed by your fears?
Shadow hands, they pressed so ******* my chest.
Maybe I will faint and get some rest.

Harsh words slice through me.
The violence caused by him is all I see.
One would think that the plate that shattered,
wouldn't look so appealing with its pieces all scattered.

If I bleed on my terms would I feel fine?
Would his and my sins then intertwine?
Would we be able to finally stand on common ground?
Maybe I will faint; I will fade away without being found.