I gave up my childhood to make her smile.
My little hands burnt day and night to shape her marital bliss
Sacrificed my lunches, my schooling to give her something to dorn her wrists with.
Her symbols of love and affection, of happiness and bliss where my chains.
Sitting on the broken stool, melting the glass, my eyes took the frustration of the furnace.
I burnt myself, day and night, to bring her some spite.
Her smile will always be the oxymoron of my sadness.