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You beat the both of us with that fist You hit hard like you went for the mirror and missed I went to check on your bloodied knuckles And kiss you But my tears rubbed into your wounded wrists You won't give me forgiveness You won't listen when I talk or look at my lips I went on about how every cut needs a stitch But you wanted to bleed When I wanted to assist You say my weak knees are meaningless You say this is how a best friend benefits I went with it like a drunk and willing masochist But you left me wondering Who's blood is this