A/N: Touched in the head. I never meant to be this way.


touched

There was pain
spilling out of your mouth...

Were you moved, love?

My words have always
been like bullets;
a violent spray of
combustible death,

When, even in kindness,
I say something barbed.

Careful with your heart
around me, dear.
I deliver cruelty,
but dress it up pretty
in honesty's clothes.

A peddler of lies,
purveyor of truth.

There was pain
spilling out of my mouth...

Were you moved, love?

I'm just a little bit
touched.