When you looked me in my eyes and I told you I was dying.
You didn't for a second shift, and my body could no longer keep fighting.
You kept your hands on my throat squeezing the life out of me.
In and out of consciousness, moments where I couldn't see.
I knew I didn't have much time;
now that you were on my windpipe.
No air at all.
Drowning in the fall.
Black eyes staring back at me.
I still loved you and couldn't believe what I could see;
I don't remember you stopping,
I just remember all of a sudden I couldn't see.
I just remember those cold dark eyes looking back at me.
I've always wondered if I'm really dead,
and all this bullshit torture, is just me living in my head.
Maybe this is the afterlife;
that might explain my fascination with the knife.
Maybe that's why she hates me and I can't feel a thing.
Except for every horrible feeling and experience I've been in.
Consuming me and my body like I'm drowning in its waves.
Taking me apart in pieces like I'm it's fucking slaves.
I fought so hard that day to stay alive,
and I had so much time to think while I was trying to survive.
I wish someone was there to bare witness to what you did.
Because I feel so alone in it, I just want to lift off the lid.
Pour it all out for everyone to see,
the true horror of that day.
The way you tried to eliminate me in every single way.
How hard I fought back, how long it went on.
How even when I thought I didn't stand a chance I still stayed strong.
I said my goodbyes as I knew I was dying.
I prayed for my son, 10 months old, crying.
Am I alive? Sometimes I truly don't know.
I don't know how to carry on and go.
With these images each day.
How can I carry on when you're always in my way.
At first, at first, I was so grateful to live.
But now I'm haunted by images and feelings like this.
Will I ever recover, will I ever be free?
When it feels like you're living, inside of me.