The thing I cling to when all hell breaks lose,
The same that caused the hell to break in the first place,
What an odd infinite loop I find myself in,
Trapped and at home with the thing that has me going in circles,
What is it about you…?
I mean, is it addiction, or a safe haven,
Or worse, can you be both to me?
I think I’m more afraid of the answer then I’ll admit,
Love isn’t obsession,
Or is it obsession isn’t love,
I’m so unsure what your label is,
That I can’t seem to tell if your harm is filed with good intent,
Or your good is my harm to myself,
Look at myself,
Speaking in riddles, you’ve got my tongue,
Burnt and scarred,
Caressed with your poison,
I lap it up,
Clinging to you, because hell seems to have been unleashed,
And I can’t tell…