Your Mistake

I'm running
Let my lungs fill with blood
Slit a smile from my throat
Bind me with your words
And watch me choke

I'll listen
But I can't hear a thing
A wounded escape
And a tightly bound timing
About to take shape

With fear
I'll sit here still with shock
And see what you cannot
A trip timing shot
From a shaking hand

I'm stronger
Break my hand on your face
A bad idea was your mistake
The sweetest thing you'll never taste

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so this poem is pretty dark, but hey, I suppose when I write I'm just my alter-ego or something. I was in a bad mood the day I wrote this, in case you couldn't already tell, but I like the angst that pours out of it's words. I'd love to know what everyone else thinks too:)