the heart that is pumping on your hand
is my heart, struggling to live
but as always, it will eventually die

the knife that you're holding in your other hand
is your knife, dipped in poison
and is ready to ****, to burn, to laugh

(your face shows confusion
but i know that you are lying)

"what am i
supposed
to do
with this?"
"**** it."
"why?"

(you understand now)

and you smile, you stab me
repeatedly, crimson littering your skin
blood spurts out of my mouth
and i grimace-smile


"wow, you really did it this time."
"i must say i am a really good actor."