The end was nigh

He clawed at my heart through
The thin bedsheets,
The way you'd claw through the dirt when you're buried alive
He didn't stop until the hole
In my chest was just the right size

He stole my heart just to rub it in salt,
Leave it on the ground
Set it on fire and hear the symphonic crackling,
The smoke from its burn
Entering his nostrils,
Got him high on killing me
There was no better
Action that could inspire that feeling

Reviews

[The Twin Arenas]

It gives us stuff to write of though, don't it?

[liltornado]

Sure does, it's great writing fuel