I don't feel safe living in a world knowing you're not in jail. However, if love really were a crime, we'd both skip out on bail. The prosecution asked why I never really avoided you, I smiled at them and said "if you saw your fate would you really avoid it too?" Ironically enough, fate is not the term to use. When describing your essence it's more like a light losing its fuse. Yet I'm not one to talk, no, I'm a burnout too. I had imagined that together we could start over anew. But we already withered, we're both rotten to the core. When we unraveled our true layers, I should have dashed for the door. The exit was blocked, the windows sealed shut, so blindly I roamed as you made me your slut.
I hold words like ice, bold, sharp and cold, but my heart remains warmer than stories they've told. In your perspective, I was danger to the press. Just because my rights, I had chosen to express. Only you could change that, an unpleasant surprise. No image could compare to the rage inside your eyes. A punch to the face, a blade in your back, but when you turned around I saw the blood had somehow been black. Toxic and evil, poisonous design. My original thoughts were altered, your blood is nothing compared to mine. I knew I had to run, and now I had the chance, I finally got a moment, a moment to take my stance. The voices were screaming, begging me to leave, but there was one faint echo, one was so niave. It told me to stay, and stay did I do. Oh how I always regret the day I even spoke to you.
Even if I had abandoned you on that fateful day, I know that in my mind your holy ghost would always stay. There was no point in trying to regain the oxygen you stole, instead I replaced it with smoke from Gasoline and Charcoal. The flame ignited, swallowing the two of us whole, only one of us survived, the one who lacked all self control. Now I suffer the consequence of a scrambled judicial system, but they'll never comprehend that I had always been your victim.
