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Ribbons of blood dance down your face.
I’m sorry love, but I had to do this.

Why, why? Why are you slowly killing me with your poisons and pills? Why not let me end the suffering and let me kill myself, that’s what you what, right?

But then I wouldn’t have control over you, you would be controlling your death, and I don’t what that, I what complete control over you even your death, when and where and how you die.

My pretty red pills are sucking your live away, until your my marionette, empty body, empty soul. still living, but no.

The red mist screams at me, yelling why did you do this? Look at methisisallthatsleft, how could you!?

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Any suggestions for a title?