My very own Stockholm Syndrome
Is in itself
It’s own tragedy
A one man play
Starring yours truly
I apologise
For not playing the victim as well as I should
Your instruments of torture are blunt
Come
Let me sharpen them for you
There is no need to beat me
My bruises start inside and I refuse to let them heal
These masochistic tendencies will unfortunately result
In the scars that I’ll always wear
And hang around my neck
Like a noose
My cross that I’ll always bear
KJK 