A/N: Theifshipping poetry. Again. Bakura is the narrator, I think. Or maybe not. They never really tell me...
Disclaimer: I don't own them. There is, however, a good chance that they own me.
Could you taste the poison
I slipped in your cup?
Venom
That taints your blood
My self-proclaimed vengeance
The stealer of souls
As well as things more
Substantial
I nominate you
For the position
Of most easily deceived
Because you can't seem to tell
That I'm baiting you
My hook carries lies
My hand holds the truth
That I hold out to you
Like some kind of reward
You couldn't know
Could never know
You're dying
You're already dead
Locked in your tomb
Of razor teeth
And broken bones
Bloody eyes
And chipped fingernails
Scratch patterns down your skin
Writing the words
You could never say
And I don't want to hear
Poison
Venom
Venom in your words
Your bloody words
Red as my hands
Black as my soul
That horrible cliché
Still a truth
The only one you know
Who lied to you?
Everyone?
No one?
You lied to yourself
Make-believe
Happy endings
But the poison apple
Got in the way
And you choked on it
All the way down
The apple was mine
And I name you
Mine
So tell me
Could you taste it?
The poison?
Could you feel it
As it burned through the soul
That you pretend to have?
They removed it
Just when you were born
To save you from the pain
That they call human emotion
But it seems they forget
The cauterization
And the sterilization
That comes
With that surgical procedure
So now you're leaking
Oozing imperfection
And dripping
All over your white picket fence
Dripping poison
Over the perfect life
You were ashamed to wish for
Did you taste it?
Feel it?
Need it?
My poison
That's pulsing
Through your veins