Look What You Made Me Do
Huckleberry Hax

Look what you made me do.
Now there’s blood on my cuffs and this shirt is new.
Look what you made me do.
If you’d only done what I’d asked back before,
such reasonable requests, but – no – you wanted more,
pushing and pushing your self-centred score,
you ungrateful, you pretentious, you ignorant whore.
Look what you made me do.
Everything that’s smashed is smashed because of you.
I warned you; I WARNED YOU I could take no more.
Now you’re bleeding and sobbing all over the floor,
like I’m the monster that folk should deplore:
but it’s you, it’s YOU – and you know what?
It’s almost as though you desired this war.
Look what you made me do.
I hate that you forced me to do this to you.
You seem to forget just how much I adore
that person inside you, and how much I abhor
any sort of violence: my love, it is for
your protection, your correction, that I strike, nothing more.
Surely you must see that what I say is true.
Look what you made me do.