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I'm the woman who burnt herself in her own rage's flames,
The one burning down love letters, only to burn her hand seeking them out from the fire back,
The one starved for touch yet
The one who stings if you're near.
I'm that woman whose love you snapped away,
The one whose blood is on your dagger,
The one whose skin's bruised because she fell down the stairs,
the one whom you drove mad.
I'm that woman with kohl eyes, and
Ruby red lips,
The tragedy they pity,
The one no one suspects,
The one, who killed.