Now I can say,
I hate you,
I can stay,
And scream into the screen.
Kissing you,
Was a mistake,
Soon after,
Did I really break.
A week of haze,
Blood upon skin,
I scraped words,
With ink pens.
I wish to make you cry,
To make you suffer,
The number of gashes you'll have,
13 the number.
