Unfinished, Untitled, Unsent

Queue the vocoder answer-song
A voice that sings to me when you’re gone
His words don’t charge through me like yours
They don’t ignite the fire I was hoping for

The longer I stare, the more encrypted my vision
that I cock my head and swallow hard at your decision
Your pack of wolves blows through me with success
if you bring those eyes ‘round here again, just leave me to my mess

Enter the crow with a scroll in its beak
A letter of rejection written down through your teeth
Your arms, like tourniquets, saved me from injury
But now every ligament feels the pain
Blood’s taken it upon itself to drain
And you’re responsible for this; the death of me

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