Woke up and got my coffee.
Lit my cigarette.
Opened up the paper,
this is what it read:

Death by sewing needle.

He should've known.
That she would leave him,
with holes in his heart.

As he tried patch them,
the memories came back.
It was just enough to distract him.
That's when the needle pierced his heart.

Death by sewing needle.

Why'd they have to part?
Why did she leave him,
to sew patches on his heart?

As he screamed these questions,
that needle pierced his heart.

Death by sewing needle.

I should've known.
As I read these words,
tears filled my eyes.

Through my tears I realized,
I'm the one who broke his heart.

Death by sewing needle.

I fell to my knees,
and with everything inside me,
I began to scream.

Death by sewing needle.

Why'd he have to go?

Why did I leave him,
to sew up all those holes?

This is all my fault.

That's when I threaded my needle,
and pierced my guilty heart.

Death by sewing needle.

Now we'll never part.


© Oaktree