Every black tear shed
is just an eye roll on your end.
I put my fragile heart in your hands
and watch you drop it
time and time again.
I see the short fuse go
and your attitude explode;
re-opening the wounds
that have just scabbed over
I try and leave
but you pull me back in
like I’m attached to a string.

I long for change;
for you to show me you really are
my fairytale prince.
I have no tears left to shed
and no patch of skin left to scar.
I’m gripping the scissors,
ready to end it all.

You have one last shot
one more round with my heart in your hands.
but one more drop
and I steady my tremble,
forcing the blades to slice your string.
you’ll lose your hold over me.
I’ll finally be free