From the Start

From the start I was blinded with my heart.
With bleeding eyes I look back- questioning: why?
Tossed for one last time I'm telling with these rhymes of what I've seen from my scarring eyes.
To your knife: it hurts as if words- for your voice, it doesn't sing as a bird.
Third: my silence is broken, shaking with fury I hope this tone will bury- with my silence broken- this aching voice, awaiting to shake the heavens down- awaiting to splinter into echoes; arising as this voice begins to bellow.
My eyes have seen enough, my heart demands to triumph, demands that from the start I won't end with a bleeding heart.
So as I mend: know that we are through, for it wasn't me but only you.