Pity

I poured myself into your glass
Though you never asked for a drink
Dripped down your throat
So thick
You can't swallow
Can't think

I ruin my knights in armor
There is no distress in this damsel
Once I've caught the scent
I'm gone before you know
A shaken etch-a-sketch
Your charity erased by my pen

My mood swings with an uppercut
But your punches
Cluttered my heart
Now you're just words to be read
When I make you into my art
We are already as good as dead

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