HURT

I hold you in between my teeth

and to calm you down, my beast,

I'd rather compose romances for you

but I'd have more profit by chanting

chanting spells, witchcrafting, voodooing

to keep you asleep in my throat,

so that you can't scratch, scrape,

tear my gums 'til they bleed...




But I subdued myself,

setting my kindness in a song.

Dedicate to your primal soul.

It's made of voiceless timbers,

breakbeats of a warm swollen heart,

without tempo or cadence.

The piece is being played as I free you.

Soundlessly, I let you go...

Right. No point on mutual pain and sorrow.