Flying Knives

May 23, 2012
Daggers fly from your mouth,
You’re careless too when the come out,
Shooting them at whomever you pleased,
But your daggers always seem to be pointed at me,
Do you like to see me cry?
Do you like to see me lying on the floor?
Dripping in blood; I can't take anymore!
My wounds- they don’t heal,
Sometimes I wonder if it’s my life you’re trying to steal

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