With her dead eyes she looks in mine, ready to devour my heart.
My heart I readily gave in exchange for her love,
My body I readily gave in as prisoner to her icy touch,
My mind I made slave to her cold treatment.
I thought the love I have would be enough to warm her stone-cold heart.
I thought I’d be able to make a difference before the undertaker came for my love-less body.
It’s not her fault.
It’s not her fault, this is the life she’s known all her life.
No hearts, no love.
She is but a victim of this purgatory we live in.
Fighting demons as a child,
Fighting demons as men
They walk among us and I’m just a victim of their creation.
-Crimnae
