Year of the Swine

You carry, the loyalty of dogs, so you shall be led to the slaughter as swine

It all seemed so real when you whispered, adorned with rose petals and the best of intentions

Bleeding softly

I wonder if he ever felt as warm

It's late and my ears can't listen and there is no one to lift me to my feet

But still dream of you twisting and contorting beneath a garbage bag veil

And this is how it ends

Pretty and black as the soul

Just for one split instant I want to be the lucky one

Not to have the pleasure of tasting the salt of my own tears when we kiss

I've been saving my own soul for years and every instant I have been slaughtered as the swine