Your words are shallow and dull against my skin.

Their cold bitter edge cuts deeper within.

I don't appreciate the words you say behind my back, but it's OK.

I'm not one for getting mad.

I don't need apologies.

I don't fall for sympathy.

You can't win me back.

This will be the last time I'm kissing you good-bye.

You left me with a scar across my back.

These stones are breaking my bones as they crush me.

Your careless remarks left me here to bleed.

I don't appreciate the games you play without regret but it's OK.

I'm not one for getting mad.

Your knife, my back