*

... & the night you traded me for another hand of veins,

was when mine heart was left distained,

to sit perpetually in the depressional rain,

maybe now I can admit to understand,

back then was purely an emotionally strain,

brought on of what loneliness rammed;

oh,

one wishes how,

strength streaming through me now,

surfaced then to face horrors found,

no, wouldn't dare watch another throw I around,

a crime of written fiction could've worn a shameful frown.