You bought a cleaver and you brought it down on my wrist.
You didn’t touch me, and neither did your sodding blade,
But you were acting careless, I suppose you were pissed.
Your words lashed out into my rotting brain and the story played,
It played out like they all do. It made my heart burn.
It made my eyes sting and my cheeks were soaked in salt.
That cleaver you bought, It’s what I now yearn.
You should have just cut me, saved all this mental assault.
All you did now leads me back to the river of blood,
All I did to clamber out and now I am drowning again.