It’s the end of the line: you stepped on the landmine (BOOM).

This charade pantomime has gone long since passed its time.

This fatal analysis,

A catalyst

Of this explosion.

Erosion of what used to be

Between you and me.

You’ve killed it,

Here in cold blood.

A flood of tears has long since dried.

But your greed is amplified by this picture in my head.

A child dead, decapitated on the floor.

But there’s more:

Your hands stained red.

Pulse quickens with dread

As you reach up to smear

The blood on my face;

Your hands as white as before,

Now your guilt erased.

“You did it,” you said

As you kissed my forehead,

Holding the dagger behind your back.

I should keep better track

Of all the times you’ve pointed out something I lack

So that I can hack your damned argument to pieces.

This paper is destroyed with creases

From being folded over itself so many times.

I’m sick of these rhymes.

Time to be serious.

“Give me your heart. Make it real, or let’s forget about it.”