He craves to cut me into a thousand pieces
I become his glorious display of self destruction
On this murky stage, mine to perfuse.
I am the unfinished art under his saw
The sawdust, my emotions in disarray
I struggle against the desires of my artist
But his resilience defeats me.
His tarnished blade punishes with an unending thirst
And as the fabric of my soul begins to tear
I watch the remaining humanity in his eyes withdraw
As my existence slowly fades away into oblivion.
His determination eases into a breath of relief
As the grip in my hands diminish
The cage of my heart brutally opened
By the very hands that swore protection.
How lucky I am to be his work of art
Carefully pieced together by the strings of his callous heart
Who am I to question his methods?
Who am I to refuse his illicit expression of love..
On an undeserving canvas such as I.
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