You convinced me,
I'm not worth it.
I've always been,
very easily broken,
and now I'm choking
on all the reasons,
he's given me,
to stay alive.

I've never before thought,
of pushing up daisies,
as a profession,
but sometimes I think,
I'd be **** good at it.
I'm choking on all the words,
he's ever said to me,
because their sweet content,
is toxic,
and I'm simply his lab rat,
testing theories on the,
lowest depths of insanity.

The roots of these daisies,
are turning against me.
Wrapping themselves around,
my spinal cord,
tapping into my vertebrae,
telling me to,
stand up straight,
and fake it through the day,
with a smile painted,
on a plaster made face.