Run in circles like a mouse in a trap.

Squeak, squeak: "I’m a victim. Everyone else is a cat

 Playing with the end of my tail. "

Only the strongest shall avail.

But time ticks Mr. Whiskers make your master plan.

You can’t deceive and cry more than the times you ran.

To watch you run only makes the players in your game dizzy.

I had long seen these games as tell and kissy.

I followed just to erase your paw prints in my blood.

I grew skinny by the way you made me sick with what you call love.

And in the end you were the lab rat swallowing the drugs.

Because despair was the only true thing you could love.