Under The Fury

Grazing skin on stone – what has been done?
Welts on my knuckles as I cling on

Hide these crimes and I can't feel the pain
Without a needle track the mapping of my vein
One word from you moves tendons within me
Oceans of guilt – yet you are free

Time...Love...Age...Hope... (Won't comfort me).

Blood on my tongue and the feedback in my ear
Swims in and out but you won't disappear
Now I've found purpose I'm no longer the man
I crumble to dust as your guilt sets me free

I swallow my own blood...I clear my vision
I open up to you... so you can grip my neck and poison me with fury

Under the what? Fury.

I can't trust this.
I won't trust this.
I don't want to feel this way.