I'd rather you use bombs and knives, I'd rather you use guns and swords. I'd rather that we would have fights; that you'd leave me with open sores.
I'd rather you find a different weapon, a different tool to use on me. I wish you'd make me feel a pain; I wish you'd leave me weak and ******.
Yet the sharpest tool is what you use; you leave me dead inside. I wish you'd tear my heart out; I wish I would have died.
You open your mouth and the weapons spill out, you're armed with words that you scream and shout. The pain is unbearable, the torture indescribable. I know there's no point in putting up a struggle.
You **** me, one by one, your words an open ****. They slice me up in pieces, making me feel like trash.
All I can be is silent; I know that is the best. I try to block them out, but they're already in my chest.
Your words are killing me; a slow, antagonizing death. Each word you say cuts me, each wound raw and fresh.
I wish you'd let me be, I wish you'd leave it unsaid. I guess you just can't see you can't bring someone back from the dead.