A father's poem designed to justify wrong Mistaken for love † † † A mother's poem Designed for meek excuses Having turned away † † A daughter's poem Designed for paying for sins Never committed † A lover's poem Designed to heal the broken † Like balm on cracked lips
Iím not sorry for using my heart as a trap. Once youíve been caught itíll never set you free. Itís exciting to hear you beg and cry for attention. But wonít let you go until Iím bored with you.
Iím not sorry for you getting lost within my magic triangle. The murky Venus trap devours you greedily. How you struggle to escape that vortex of desire. Will swallow you whole and spit out the bits and pieces.
Iím not sorry for turning words into knives. The blades are going to mutilate each word of yours. My fun is watching you...