Throat

The knife is against your throat and I don't think I'd regret it Stop picking at my skin Pull your teeth out of my neck Leave me somewhere between life and death Pain and emotionless Good to know I don't have to fix this I know respect Your blood will stain my hands and the collar of your top I'll pick at the little meat on your bones and keep the rocks in your pockets My knuckles cannot be whiter, permanent stains in my vision Your face so far away or non existent I can't remember the shape of your eyes