Who wrote this poem?
Spin your lies and pick a fight,
Don’t worry, I will not forget about what happened last night.
You speak your words and sharpen your knife,
what happened to the meaning you gave my life.
This bruised, brooding, blameful ending you’re giving me,
I don’t think it’ll ever set me free.
You see the pitter patter of your feet in the rain,
sorta reminds me of this game.
Every breath I take,
Lets me move further from you
And for once
In a certain way, your venom has positively benefited me.