I hate this feeling.. This feeling that I know you don’t want me. You say you love me, but you never prove it to me. All you want out of me is to get in my pants. I fell in love with you and now you just continue to hurt me and it’s ridiculous because I just let you do it. Because you made me fall in love with you. You forced me into it. And now I can’t get out of this. I want to, but I’m caught in the metal bars of this terrible dungeon you locked me in. I’m struggling, pulling at the bars of the dungeon, shaking them, screaming “Help!” and I still can’t get out of this place. In this place I get repeatedly stabbed in the heart and the dagger gets twisted inside of my heart until you pull it out and leave me to bleed. I try and sneak out, maybe even get you mad enough to let me out, but when you do, you run back and pull me back into the dark dungeon I wish I never was captured in. But in some twisted, sick way, I love that I’m in this deep dark pit of hurt. You placed me into it, of course I love it. I love every single little thing you do, no matter how much blood I shed for everything. I saw the blood on your dagger. My blood on your dagger; And say to you: “I wonder if my blood means something to you. The blood I shed almost every single day for you. The holes in my heart that ache in pain. Do they mean anything to you?” And you just smirk at me and lean in to hold me in your arms, your blood spattered arms, and tell me “everything is alright.” I wish everything was alright, my darling. I really do.