I am shredded.
Your love is a fury.
Your care is scorn.
I am hopeless.
Your tenderness, a blade.
Your concern a searing flame.
My love is a burden.
It has lashed me to the moor.
It is a gangrenous limb.
Your love's edge glints above.
It rises and comes down with a slash!
STOP! Wisdom dictates that I let you cut it off, to damage my love beyond repair. But I cannot consent...
I cannot consent.
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