Stockholm SyndromeUpdated at Nov 10, 2017, 09:12
Sneering at the flicker of fear in
my eyes,
You made your way to my side,
You kissed me, your lips
stained with lies.
Your blade you raised,
Glinting in the moonlight’s
daze,
Slowly swooping down to me,
The air now a crumbling maze.
A mysterious, quiet, cool
danger rained down,
But he made a sound,
And into darkness you had
grown.