Your grasp,
Like that of Death's own,
So unforgiving and harsh,
Around my fragile wrists,
You pierce my veins,
With your hateful tone,
Spilling my blood,
It drips, drips, drips,
Around us onto the floor,
Where you leave me,
Laughing in echos,
You're not sorry,
You go against sorrow with every move,
With every broken bone,
With every torn heart and shed tear,
You use me as your excuse,
To create this torturous pain,
That you abandon me with