What binds us; divides us

I've gotten used to the sound of your voice
So much that I can't remember the sound of mine
I speak in verbal signs;
a tone or resonance and arrogance
but I'm still prone to the disease
and how it affects me

I hear your lack of appetite for life
and it leaves me
craving more

I'm a magnet to the victim inside your soul
When you're finally trapped I'll feel you lose control
A number of "I love you's"
But the image of your lips pressed to my scars
never leaves me





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