He sat there, told me, I'd never feel it.
Never understand, the passion, the pain,
The pills and the pitfalls, how he'd been hit,
Over and over, again and again.
He'd say I was pretty, say I was smart,
Tie me so tightly with flattering words,
Whisper sweet nothings, heap praise on my art,
Dole out "I love you"s like feed for the birds.
Sin now set 'gainst sin in my stomach,
Unable to leave, my wrath falls on him,
Time after time plunge the knife in his back,
Note there that barely perceptable grin.
Can be a coward and still use my fist,
For each time he's hit, looks like he's been kissed!