The form of decay that's left behind is the rotting kind that you never cut out
In its pulp, it has your moniker etched into the surface
This doesn't surprise me because you never went below
Flirting with the disaster in my eyes, but never getting to know what makes me whole
I'm left gnawing at the cancer that fills your void like a dying man's last breath
Struggling to stay alive in this suffocating mess
You murdered the four-chambered muscle desperately aching behind my chest
With your jagged little words, the lethal weapons of your allure
Stirring emotions with hurricane lips, I was sucked into the eye of your storm.
Watch Alexander Bentley perform this spoken word poem on his official Facebook page by clicking here.