Poking at the wound I’ve inflicted,
with a mind as vindictive as every move carefully given.
With your soul I see what you see, taste what you eat,
feel every thorn which strikes you.
Every tear which you shed baths my heart with salt,
as harsh as each heartache I feel with your presence gone.
Each bloodshed my heart gives,
Slowly draining every inch of my soul, bound to end .
Each drop as meaningless as a flute...