You are like the run in my stocking
Stalking the soft of my leg
Revealing twisted truth dressed in sheer
Shearing it slowly away.
You try to pierce my protective caul
Calling me to breathe
Yet provide no air and leave me faint
Feint intentions to deceive.
You spill soft words drenched in rye
Wry remarks to abuse
But with you I will no longer lie
Lying to myself for you.
You are not my tender shining knight
Night is coarse and never shone
Locked in the confines of your cell
Selling my soul
Piece by Piece
Until all Peace was gone.
Copyright © Krystal Cochrane