I Gave To Much

Lips crack, as the dryness of your heart, spreads through every breathable speck of air, A fine dust resonates within the minds easily corrupted, I found this dust here, within every dirty recess, you deemed clean, your hands remain bloodied, by the razor, you solemnly bled for, every person, who told you, they loved you, lied.... love isn't real, it never has been. Love a mild form of hate and envy, small specks of disfiguring wretchedness, reside within thee, A sadistic smirk, pulls at your lips, parted slightly, blood dripping as your mind bleeds, Clearly this blood is tainted, Yet you drink it all the same. your choice to stay the way you hate, or to hate the way you wanted to stay, every choice, every consequence, I've payed for, with more than, my small incisions of flesh and blood, but small fragments of a distant soul, That I've given away, one to many times.