Pen and Paper

Knife with sweetened blades

 

 You always tell me that,"I love you, don't ever forget that" 

But everytime you point the knife at me,I have seen things I'm not suppose to see. 

Even if my skin hasn't bled yet,

Even if the knife hasn't cut me yet,

I know I'm doomed, if you can point the knife at me then tell me you love me, what more if you didn't?

I know I'm not suppose to hate you,

But the knife made me see you through, 

And I hope you realize that every time you point the knife at me, 

Even if my skin hasn't bled yet, 

Even if the knife hasn't cut me yet,

 I become confused, broken and unawareIf you really love me, why point a knife at me to make me question myself? 

 As rare becomes ordinary, seldom becomes frequently 

The knife you point at me, 

Even if my skin hasn't bled yet, 

Even if the knife hasn't cut me yet, 

Became comfortable enough for me to use 

So I hope everytime I get abused, 

 The knife will cut through my skin,Pierced through my veins, 

For me to stop counting the times the knife was pointed at me, 

And see what was hidden behind the cloud that is a perfect blue