Your pity makes naught a difference, your ‘woe’.

Sadistic you watch them, keep your rotgut.

Empathetic lack incenses me. But,

an attractive threat, transparently so.

Your thrall is apparent: all I can do-

‘I’m sorry’ you simper, saccharine sweet

Its okay, but please no more hits to greet

Just want this with you, no black nor the blue

Scarlet, azul on a beat-up paintbrush.

Paint me new unbroken lines or maybe

don’t. Don’t paint them. Please don't draw me new veins

A new place you cut through. Cerise would rush,

flush all of my tears and fears and-  Baby,

Would you want that? ‘Stead of in your chains?