I sit here trying to write a poem of love,
But I lack inspiration. Is that cause my
Love has gone cold? Or cause my love
Is at a standstill. One screaming to another
NO YOU MOVE FIRST!
This is a never-ending battle of which the
Soldiers hunger for nothing but resistance
And thirst for nothing but the blood of its loved one.
Grief and disbelief are holding me down, with a knife
To my throat, creating tiny red bubbles against my skin.
How can I love with every fiber when I lack inspiration in
Even myself now, yet I still have belief in you. My heart
Is screaming for me to go go go, but my mind is saying hell no.
Does it make me love you any less? No, my love always has been
And always will be yours. Here let me show you, hand me a pen
And ill sign my love away, as if it wasnt already yours. But my love,
Hand me a pen and Ill sign away what I once thought was mine.
You can have my heart and my soul.
Whats that you say? You only want them to toy with?
Yes this I know, but hand me the pen, ill sign
Do you want this done with blood or tears?
Youre choice, either way with one word its yours.