The amount of times I would burn my skin for you.
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The heavy metal kissing my skin, burning it with flames ablaze within, I closed my eyes.
Letting the pain run through my veins. Slowly letting it travel up my brain, here I smile.
A tingle of your love — it is the burns I had from your skin to mine.
Self loathing became non-existent, the rot it caused passed from sight as you carried me to your love through an aisle.
I would gladly burn my skin for you, again, if it means that I get to catch your eyes gazing mine.
To love is to change.
Does that include letting myself go for your sake?
Like violent tides hitting the shore, terrorizing the sand settled together.
Forcing them back in the sea, drowning them with constant hitting
from waves that don’t know any better but to sin.
Gnawing at the sight, do you really have a habit of agitating those who bear peace?
Constant crucifixion, screaming at abiding agony.
Throat raw and dry — hands clawing, as they try to remove me from this continuous tragedy.
Lungs bleeding, slowly drowning from the blood that hinders my breathing.
God, when will I be free? Tell me, is this what you wrote for me?
Why did you let the hands of a sinner plan a catastrophe?
