Its not about her being alive,
Its about her being repeatedly killed,
Its not about how you feed and dress her,
but how you said you fed her,
and how you tear her dress open,
It’s for the times you get jealous,
times you push her down the stairs,
and times you humiliate her in front of your friends
It’s about how you brag about your love
but dated so many.
It’s not about you killing her,
nor the 2 or 3 cuts on her wrist,
It’s about the regret from saying ‘Yes’
that keeps on killing her,
It’s all about why she did it.
It’s not about you, it’s about her.