Ouch

And the worst part is, I wish for your pain. 
As much as I wish for your wellness, I wish for your pain. 
When you filleted me with the precision only someone 
who practiced, who rehearsed, who prepared, can achieve... 

Did the blade slice you the way it threaded me?
Did you, too, feel the flesh rip from your bones?
Did you desperately grasp for armor you once wore?

Because I did. 
I can't find my breastplate or my helmet. 
The weight in my chest perfectly counterbalances 
the momentum built by tumbling thoughts, and
I'm ok, I'm ok, I'm gutted, I'm ok, I'm ok. 

I wish for you to hurt the way I hurt, 
to know that your blood, too, feels colder, 
that you see the grey filter on the world around you.

And the worst part is, I wish for your pain.
As much as I wish for your wellness, I wish for your pain,
When I chose to let you in, when I chose to give, 
I didn't anticipate how much you would willingly take.