Thanatos

your hands look like they were made to fit in mine

a dead rose in a jar of blood and somehow we call it love

i almost claimed you for death, yet you call my name with kindness and soft devotion

i'd stitch every open wound and still taste the blood like proof

standards so high it got snoop to nod

happiness in debt for a taste of you

we cross paths, and i make you question the authenticity of everything you've ever had destabilizing what you thought was certain a blessing or a curse.. that's for you to decide

even with a losing bet, i still look the devil in the eye

where do i run if my solid ground has shaken to the core

i once held the sun. now i'm but a reflection of the moon