When we first met, he was caring and sweet.
I thought he was the best, a woman could ever meet.
The first years were great, and I feelt so loved.
But his love turned to hate, and my mind wandred of.
I blamed myself for it all, but he blamed me more.
And in the nights he would prowl, with the weapons he bore.
He tore me apart, and he branded my skin.
But when he broke my heart, my hatred would set in.
I hated him so much, but he hated me more.
And the thought of his touch, made my brain feel sore.
The really bad touching, felt so normal so fast.
So in my mind i was clutching, onto things from the past.
He made a big mistake, by never hidding his gun.
He thought I'd easilly break, and then he would've won.
But one can only live years, before comming to a point.
Where you ignore all your fears, and just get the job done.
So I picked up his knife, the rusty one from the sheed.
And I ended his life, and laughed while he bleed.
And when it was over, and I was satisfied,
I picked up his revolver, and ended my own life.
