you make my fire bubble and my brimstone turn to milk i made your wood heart burst into flame when i knocked you off your stilts cause i knocked you in the ashes of the bonfire we made last week and we both know ashes smoulder and your scars know that ashes retain heat it leapt spitting from its deathbed and it wrestled me to the floor you managed to grab my ankle i tried to make it for the door and god knows you willed that fire to lick the skin right from my bones but that fire she showed pity too it s a weakness much like your own well you crucified my daughter so i butchered your son you watched me willing me to cry you thought i was gonna run but thats just what you do you make people feel so small and that s relying on them having doubts or regrets and i have nothing at all nothing at all and i don t regret you and i dont regret this and i proved it with a midnight stalk through a frosty garden in a heavy pink mist and i doused your bed in petrol and i signed my name on your bedroom window my work of art and an end to this and my final move and blow and a stalemate to your wretched games and this three minute bout of murder it s best that we forget this and act happy and move on and get older