Even if you kill me, let it be death,
Let it be pain, hunger, isolation,
I won’t mind you; you can crumble my breath,
I only fear of your frustration.
I can see your heart: it is my justice,
I can feel your eyes, they are uncertain,
But elegant and strong like a necklace,
A glass vase and a great ball of cotton.
I rather you stab than fight your own self,
No blood will spurt out my forgiving chest,
You will have wiped it all away without,
Trace the space between your heart and my own,
There is none, they’re bound, I’m never alone.
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