A sickly poison,
Coursing through my veins.
Diminishing my freedom,
I'm shackled by chains.

The love you project,
Is not what it seems.
It is only justified,
In my lonesome dreams.

Sinister intentions,
Your affection bleak.
The times we share red,
In ******* I speak.

His hands dipped in paint,
My sanity as colors.
The strokes were faint,
But enough to be cluttered.

My body a canvas,
Along with my heart.
A soul riddled with sadness,
Turned into abstract art.