My lover's arm are bleeding with wounds I hadn't caused. He cannot carry me in them anymore. I yearn for that knowledge, to uproot the source of his evil, so that he can be the man I know he is. And yet, this heart of mine is fettered. It shant rest until it is reduced, so unbearbsly mauled into pieces of his smile until is a caricature of my love. The pain is unbearable. Why won't be let me dab at his wounds? To clean them?!