when every time i hear from you
it’s disgust and filth,
Hell’s pit erupts as you open your mouth,
a fragrance of deceit as you pat my back,
and i feel the grin as you again leave a mark.
cause each time I look at you,
I feel there’s still work to do,
a stitch here might break there,
eventually something will hold together.
You might not see it yet but i know it’s there,
that hope that drives me to remain here,
though it barely burns cause you live in fear,
but it’s alright, you can try again, here’s my hand.