You kept on trying, and I never kept track.
It's not your fault to want me crushed and tortured.
But it's a fault of my heart who knew everything but never held back.
Your countless attempts was your presistence.
And my attempts to keep talking was my weakness.
You got me cornered one day.
All sad and helpless.
You lent me a shoulder to cry on and called me a 'gem' when I felt worthless.
Those words and a slip of my heart, in a leap of moments your voice became art.
I couldn't stop admiring it, nor could I stop looking at it.
But now that I can tell, you were nothing but a black rock, dark.
