Hey, doesn’t it ache a lot?
Quite foolish of me to ask that
When I was the one
Who made those brooding scars in you,
Isn’t it?
Scared as I am of your wrath,
Can’t blame you for being angry.
Still, I won’t apologize,
Rather I’ll fill those holes of yours
With my blood, sweat and tears,
So that you wouldn’t hurt anymore.
