Made of wax, you're vulnerable, able to be molded into anything. He molds you, you succumb, always his. You've given yourself up completely, little melting wax hearts that beat only for one.
Made of glass, you're breakable, and you know that he won't hesitate to break you. Shattered and sharp, he is you, and sometimes you feel as though he pours salt in your wounds for seasoning, not for pain.
Made of magic, he'll control you, and perhaps that wouldn't be awful at all, different at all, new at all. You wonder if he can feel the magic pulse between you, magnetic fires aligned.
You wonder if he can feel anything at all.
Made of blood, made of skin, made of you, you're really nothing at all.
You, you're vulnerable.
You're nothing. Nothing but loyal, which has no importance whatsoever, nothing but you. And if that was ever enough, then it's not anymore.
Made of blood, he'll just find a way to kill you a little bit more effectively. Damage you a little more wholly. Tear you apart a bit more, because really, you're nothing at all but flesh and bone, and he has long since moved on from that. You know that.
So wake up.
A/N: First off, I don't own. If I did, well, let's say that all the cool characters wouldn't have died. Cough Tonks and Lupin. Cough cough, etc., ad nauseam.
And secondly, thanks much to xxeviexx, or as I like to call her, Evie, for being an awesometastic betaface.
Anyway, this is a first, and . . . interesting enough. I enjoy it. I hope you do as well.
Oh! And while I'm being pointless and unrelated: Welcome to the world, Bandit Lee Way! Ignore that.