A little patch of purple
Streams of flowing red
I picture as she's talking
hearing nothing she has said
She dances with a smile,
completely in denial
of my gestures towards me
wanting her in bed
The image in mind growing
Her arms better if they bled
But, she just laughs
and she talks
and turned her back instead
We swayed and she twisted
and looked into my dread
Quickly seeing I want her bleeding
I whisper 'I'd like you better dead.'
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