Pulling Hairs, Pushing Stairs

More than anything, I want the words "I love you" to be uttered from my mouth... even though the translation is foreign, the yearning is deeply rooted within. The driving compulsion to repeatedly stab you, is whispered sweetly in my ears... even though, it would never be deep enough. I long to hold you close within my arms... till the convulsions have ended and your lips have turned a cold, dull blue. If I had but one question to ask... it would begin with the word, why. Why must you seek pleasure in harming me? Perhaps it is the chase... like a playground taunting. The bullies stalking, inside they're talking... for this school bell has long since been tolled. The need to love and to be loved, has reaped the rotten fruit of hate... a line too thin for sight.