the death is like a knife to my lips
I beg to be taken but it runs too high
the bloodshot pools in my eyes ready
my fingers grasp the edge of your throat
follow my heaving breaths to the end of time
I’m ready, I’m ready, I’m finally ready
but the high is an emotional letdown
and the door slams shut
I’m left to be misery’s bitch, tomorrow’s slut
shamed to the market, shamed at home
shamed to be together, shamed when alone
and what is all this sadness for
but the hope that one day he’ll do it right
and I will be no more