Playing The Victim
Just as the razor cuts flesh, your words wound me
Just as the wound throbs fresh, my cut soul bleeds
Not only do you stab me, but you complain my blood is too slick
You can't hold the handle easily, can no longer cut deeper than a nick
I clean the knife by forgiving you, so you can stab more forcibly
You twist with sneering half-truths, plunging hurtful words deep within me
I just look to you with hurt eyes, holding my arms out in acceptance
Watching the arc of your arm's rise, hoping the stabbing relents
But your anger knows no bounds, and stabs out in repitition
Deaf to my muffled cry's sounds, but I love your touch, even in attrition.
-David "Dingo" Bleecher
