The moment he says hello, my everything begins to sink, until I am the nothing he addresses as an accessory. And if I develop so few words alone, he grabs them from my falling lips and uses them to scrape at my bone. A leash was made by a someone, no one remembers who, and he uses that leash to obtain me, directing my every move. If I look up to see such rope, crying against my neck, I may let simple drops follow apon a broken deck. He sighs harp blades across my back, reminding me of all I lack. Armor will never prevail, I can not defend from endless hail. He who knows I, sunken in shivers, leans over me with no single bluing quiver. He who shaves my song to black, will read this and never know it was him who never gave back.