Did it ever occur to you, that the wounds you can't see, are more significant
Did you ever wonder why, I am a little different, not like the others, weirdly distinct
Cos I choose to disassociate for the rest of my life, put on an appearance, i've put it in my stride, this is how I must survive.

No one else will get near again, I simply cannot take the risk, have no capacity to love like I once did, not equipped for further hits.

What I have to lose is so much less, I've only got a little left, you didn't leave enough for me, I've nothing to invest, someone else deserved me, you took it all you took my best.

So many more wounds linger just beneath the surface, they pierced my soul, they made me weaker.
The wounds so deep I myself am surprised, that im somehow lucid, seemingly fine, only to those who never walked this line.

The wounds inflicted 1000 times, the death of my heart and soul, death by cuts of 100 knives
Bit by bit, you carved away, a bruised eye caused others to mention, so instead you preferenced a punch to the kidney, or a fracture to my spine, you learnt quick not to draw bad attention.

You weren't done yet, not nearly enough, the anger in you was building up.
You stripped off my clothes then tied me to a chair
Calmly you filled the kettle, let it boil, then stood over me, lifted it over my head, ready...