It must be fun to play strings,
to treat me as your thing.
I’ve been accustomed to behave
as if I were your little knave.
I may as well be your slave
with all these god damned scars you gave.
They don’t show the lash of a whip,
just a bloody piece of my heart that you ripped.
I knew you for a long time
I even watched you grow with my eyes.
Increasing my love for you inside
for you to just push it all aside
and leave me for another guy.
I didn’t do anything
but you rubbed it in until it stung.
Slowly I took control,
no longer commanding my mind, it whole.
Now you will pay the toll
for digging this size of a hole.