Tick... Tock...
The hands are moving fast.
Tick... Tock...
Tick... Tock...
The thoughts have all but passed.
The nights are growing colder, and the carpets getting warm;
Yet here I still lay, poisoned by your gentle touch.
How could a lamb hurt the wolf?
But we both know, don't we?
That isn't quite how the story goes.
It was never your laugh that I strode for, but the absence of it.
I needed you to hurt,
I needed to be the one.
I needed to be the one that saved you.
I needed the feeling, of being remembered,
of meaning something.
So I broke your bridges,
and I dropped the dome over your decaying city.
I stole your food, and poisoned your water.
I made you need me,
I made you.
I made you.
I made you cry yourself to sleep,
I made you draw lines upon your skin,
because when I wasn't there to hold hand,
you did nothing but fall to your destructive mind.
How could you possibly stand on your own?
When all I did was break your bones.
I made you this way,
I did,
And In a way,
I liked it.
Yet here I stand now,
A wolf weak as ever,
cowering before the lamb that once stood between my jaws.
Ironic, is it not?
I just wish I could say sorry.
