You speak of knives that cut me deep,
that pierce my aching bones,
You tell of scars that stain my skin
and murder my innocent moans.
You speak of forks that stab me here,
in the depth of my bleeding heart,
You preach of string to stitch me up,
and stop me from falling apart.
You speak of evil and the devil's dream,
of the world going up in smoke.
You say this without even moving your lips,
By your stare with which you provoke.
Twilight Whispers
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/your-unspoken-sin/
