Your sittin there, curled in ball,
You dont know what happened, but you took a fall,
I can't find you now but I'm calling your name,
I'm heading down, saying your to blame.
The knife in my hand, the blood everywhere,
Leaves a trail, only too fair,
Your in the kitchen, lying on the floor,
Why Don't you move, you health seems so poor.
I think to myself as the anger grows,
"you look so pathetic!", and yet it still flows,
The knife in my hand seems to rise on it own,
I can only think of how I let you down.
My hands are warm now, blood rushing forth,
For it was you that I let down, the knife you were with,
I'm lying here now, with my last breaths,
Whispering to myself I still love you, while watching my warm hands covered in blood....
