Your hand pushed into my shoulder,
But you held more than you knew,
Roots came out of the palm of your hand and infected my heart,
And by then I was through.
Knocked out,
Good Game,
That's how love felt,
It was bitter and lame.
Those roots,
They choked,
Grew round my neck,
Constricting my throat.
And yet,
I still,
Let you take over,
Steal all my freewill.
I got into it,
I tripped into it,
I fell down that path,
As steep as it got.
I took the insults on the chin and the nose,
And didn't bite back a lot,
Cuz I could handle it,
I could handle it.
At least that's what I thought,
I thought you and me,
Would always be,
But I wised up and stumbled off.
Your hand fell off of my shoulder,
But the roots,
They shall remain,
Rotten, Growing, and Untamed.
