by Nick Gisburne
I live to give you misery and pain,
To ruin every dream you ever had,
To feed the fear, the phantoms in your brain,
Delusions, dark, malicious, broken, bad.
With every twist of torment, every hurt,
I dig a little deeper, and rejoice
To see you struggle, dying in the dirt,
Entangled in the whispers of my voice.
But no, this bleak reality is yours,
A storm of paranoia you released.
The raw, relentless rumours, without cause,
Are nothing. Not the lowest. Not the least.
To madness, vicious, venomous, you bend,
A sickness I am powerless to mend.
