The mental storm

Your filth is on my skin burying  discolouring it coal black
I must only be good in the sack
For your skins cold like ice
So solid I know you will break
While I eat your stake
You think off her
Think off me I feel violated and angry sad and I except
I don't wear the crown off gold
I'm just your whisper off warmth in this storm you elective mute
Hiding all your hate in your eyes Iv tried to defrost you but I cant
I can no longer see my footsteps in the snow
I need to go home to wash my skin for it should be white and pure not marked by a love I don't recieve
The answer I no you love het
News flash she's eating you like meat your chucking your heart to the wolves and justifying it 
Leaving your filth on my skin