Sebastian

Fear.

That is what I feel

towards you,

and your face.

Don't make me weep.

I'm happy, I think

But I don't know

anymore.

You make me so

unsure.

The poisonus dagger

you stabbed me with

is dripping with

my blood,

my time,

my life.

You stabbed me

with love

and left open

a bleeding wound.

A wound,

unhealable,

called misery.

Why don't you

just cut my head of,

by saying you hate me,

instead of letting me thrive

in the bottom

of your heart.

Just release me

from you thistles

and your thorns.

Let me run again.