• Our love is a living nightmare.
    Consent mending ourselves from the vivid thoughts and anguish.
    You’re never content with the emotions I feel for you.
    Never satisfied with all my sacrifices.
    We can’t live on without the pain we feel for each other.
    So you continue to rip me apart then stitch me back together.
    There isn’t a blessed ending without destruction in the beginning.
    We’ll find peace in the sweet release of death.
    As we are crossed lovers born apart with souls stitched together.
    With hate in our hearts now and forever.
    There for we are crossed stitched lovers.