Addiction
Drop of blood in the dirty puddle,
footsteps besides printed in the mud.
Little red dot among black filth
dissipating in to the darkness.
Blood from the cut on the cheek,
like a broken heart inside.
Cut and broken by here touch.
The madness, the insanity that lives inside her,
one of the reasons why you’re drawn to her.
But this time is the last,
the last fight, the last scrap from her nails?
Your face bleeding, your heart beating.
She got mad again, she lost control.
Now she’s gone for good.
Perhaps.
Get yourself together, get a grip.
Wait for a while, for a day,
she’ll be back, she always comes back.
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