She read it herself
With her own two eyes
A sentiment so enchanting
It made her mind turn to burst rainclouds
and swinging nooses which hung blood red
in front of her  

He wrote it himself
With his own two hands
A penned paragraph
One for each piece of heart  
He had pierced with his lips
While he played like the mockingbird
And spat his love straight onto her face

How on earth could she inhale
such pitiful praise  
whilst simultaneously
an inner monologue of
piercing cold words
Turned her heart even further to stone
She would rather die at her own sword

If it is a sin to tell a lie
Then how could her every aching flaw be etched onto the tongue of the one who is ****** to love them no matter what?
It would drive one mad

And still stuck in a smile
pretending to be proud of his
poetic prowess
she fell slowly to the kitchen floor
While he sat in the den
Still crafting her end with his pen