instead, it will make me write about you

until my hands bleed.

it will have me revisit old wounds

just to scribble down a stupid metaphor

about how you were supposed to be my knight,

protecting me from the dragon,

but surprise!

you take your helmet off

and you are the dragon,

and that doesn't even make sense,

does it, except the really sad part

about all of this is that

it does.

now how's that for fucked up?