I paint with the blood dripping from your chest. I'd never meant to stab you. You brought it upon yourself. I had enough of the yelling, the hurting. I grabbed the kitchen knife and held it in anger. You laughed at me, goaded me. Sure I'd never do it. You literally asked for it, really we both know it. The sirens came, I didn't care. They looked at me as I played with your hair. My mind was lost. Reality broken. Why did you make me see death that day?
Now I'm gone, dancing with the demons in my head.