Excuse Me "Poe"
True, sweet "nothing's" her heart may tend to recite...
But if it's "proof" that you seek, she'd rather take her own life.
Her butterflies are demons in a Midsummer Nights hell, who are you to put a value on emotion... whats fake what's real?
By all means judge the scars that line her "God forsaken" wrists, and all the dark she's ever known, Satan's plot with mans twist.
Then go screw yourself with your egotistical fuse...
She doesnt write to be your siren, your seduction... your muse.
Her pen is her escape, and you my friend a selfish prick.
Guess she should've scribed on that, instead of love that made YOU sick.