A lifetime of quiet resentments,
Paved the way,
To red mist driven,
Steely sharp,
Slashing, slashing madness.
If only she had told someone.
If only she had let it out.
If only he had let her breathe,
Let her believe;
Believed in her,
Just a tiny, tiny bit.
But his overbearing arrogance
Made him a wife full of tiny holes,
Filled full of ire,
A raging soul,
At war with herself,
Behind her perfect, placid smile.
She waits for them now,
To come and take her away,
Quiet and covered in red.
The woman that never compained,
Never murmered,
All in persuit of a quiet life,
That in the end,
Killed him dead,
And took away everything that she had.
Paved the way,
To red mist driven,
Steely sharp,
Slashing, slashing madness.
If only she had told someone.
If only she had let it out.
If only he had let her breathe,
Let her believe;
Believed in her,
Just a tiny, tiny bit.
But his overbearing arrogance
Made him a wife full of tiny holes,
Filled full of ire,
A raging soul,
At war with herself,
Behind her perfect, placid smile.
She waits for them now,
To come and take her away,
Quiet and covered in red.
The woman that never compained,
Never murmered,
All in persuit of a quiet life,
That in the end,
Killed him dead,
And took away everything that she had.
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