I want to hold you and draw all the unhappiness out
Pull it into my veins. I have a high tolerance for pain,
and I can handle anything they throw at you.
Anything they hand you on a silver-tongued platter,
these people born with silver spoons in their mouths,
these people who won you (deserved or not),
I will devour. If I cannot shield you; if I cannot be your everything;
then give me, at the least, this.
Let me encircle you, gently,
but suffocate right out of you
the demons they bred.
