I said I was a writer,
Then saw scheming in your glance,
You had wished to live forever,
And now I was your chance,
You clawed your way inside me,
Shot jet black ink in through my veins,
Made sure that I would write of you,
Until I drove myself insane,
You longed to be the hero,
Like in the books you used to read,
Remembered as the kind of the man,
That everybody needs,
It was too late when you noticed,
The one mistake that you'd made,
That a warrior must fight with swords,
But the pen's a writer's blade,
You can't just tear my world up,
And then expect a loving rhyme,
You used your words as sharpened weapons,
And now I will use mine,
I trapped you in ink handcuffs,
Locked you behind my written bars,
And now you'll finally live forever,
As the monster that you are.