Pretty lady, lay your head on my lap. I'll tell you a story about a lovely girl and her romance with a .45. The sky flashed with crimson fireworks on their wedding night (her funeral) and she never saw happiness again. I am the steel in her grip and the claymore in your chest. The eternal man resides in violent flashbacks but you can see him right before your eyes right now. Feel honored, slut! Get down on your knees and open those jaws like you imprudently did with your heart. I'll make sure to sew your lips shut later. They only need open on nights I feel alone. Thank you but the prince is in another castle. You'll never find him in your new PTSD world where every man wears my face. Take the rejection and untruths with you to the crematorium. Some day you will burn but my chill will outlast the brightest stars and the hottest suns.