Threads break within your chest, snapping against bone with precision and grace. Whispers invading behind your pale eyes, swelling with hope that tugs at your lips with the wires pierced at the edges for total control.
Twisting and churning, spiraling creamy hatred beneath the flesh. Slicing thoughts through a twisted mind, aching behind these pale eyes while rage rips gracefully through my veins.
You always found some way to keep going. It never mattered if the foe was a friend or a stranger. Even through your knotted guts, shaking hands, weakened knees; you never stumbled and they all cheered when your blade struck true.
Your eyes are too small and your smile is awkward. You eat like an overweight man with no self control for one night and starve yourself the next. Your skin is too pale and you’ve ripped it apart enough to flinch any time your thighs are touched, well aware that if the scars ever show you’ll be tossed back to the wind
And so I will waste myself away over time so slow, you’ll never even know.