

Held In His HandsHe held my liabilities in his hands Voice calm enough to be a prediction He promised he knew everything He promised to fix me To repair the jagged edges The cracks of my broken butterflyHeld In His Hands
He held my fate in his hands And I did not know which way to turn Impossible choice And no good option
He held my innocence in his hands Crushed all that was left Claimed would make me a diamond But it only hardened me
He held my butterfly in his hands Ripped off my wings With no way to fly I closed my eyes And took the last plunge
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[...] Then, one of them lowered his binoculars.
"That's hundred bucks for me, Scar."
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[Spot reserved for something profound and or humorous]
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