Filled up my cup,
With the poison I pick,
and it’s you.
Your lord offered you the whole kingdom of His Majestic Seven Seas, but you keep begging for venomous drops from His servants.
A beautiful disaster
A catastrophe filling fibers of butterflies underneath my skin
Till the bottom rift of words I could hardly speak
Filling filled yet bare without ink
A disaster beautifully written
Only just for me, by Him.