When you look at me, what do you see? An unpainted picture of love or a painted image of misery? A boiling world of hate is my internal thrill. Don’t deal with me because I can kill.
You handed me your heart and said it was mine. I led you to believe that it was safe and locked it up tight on the inside. Instead I crushed it and you cradled a cold chill. Please watch out because I can kill.
You gave me another chance and said your wounded heart still had space. My external screamed but my demon wrote lies upon my face. Here we are again you and your will. I told you to watch out because I can kill.
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