They are not the people who you can trust,
They are the demons of the past.
Day and night, they'll never leave out of your head.
Sharp objects are their favorite things to play.
Little by little, they can deeply stab you in your chest
Until you can no longer breathe,
They will stop, only for a minute.
They wouldn't **** you, they love it when you suffer.
Darling, they are the demons of the past,
Living inside the head of someone who wouldn't last.
“Write a poem about warning/saving someone but also killing them.”
