#1

Oh, I knew it'd come to this

When I learn't your love was fiction

Succored on fantasy-lead bliss

Originally presented as contradiction

 

My heart was yours, infected black

You scorn me, lowly, under your breath

My agency, myself, I can't get back

Yet, I've no misfortunes to confess?

 

The blame is "mine", but my hands are clean-

No one believes the one who's hands stained red

I find myself stuck, as you're still so mean

Yet, meaner are the words and thoughts you bred

 

You stab me where only you know it hurts

Then question "Alas! But where's my comfort?"