Behind a sweet photograph lurks a bitter reality
He holds your hand, his grip’s too tight
He kisses your lips, smearing blood on it
He caresses your hair, some wrap around his fingers.
Leave him, why can‘t you?
You cry at night as he tastes his new lover
You build a new hope, he crushes it the next day
He comes back and then tries to leave
You tie him up and give him you.
Leave him, why can’t you?
It isn’t love.
It is suicide.