Killing Me Not so Softly

Though only a pen touching down to engrave words onto paper,

I imagine you’re evil voodoo ways forcing me to thrust it into my heart.
Jabbing it in as hard as my weak hand can plunge
Then as the last final touch you bewitch me to slowly twist it in a little further
I contemplate whether I’ll die first of ink poison, loss of blood, or a broken heart
My eyes are open and I can see my pen caressing the paper
But I feel the pains in my heart non-the-less
You will not be the best of me 
You can not be the death of me
I focus my thoughts on living breath by breath
Pouring my heart into these words
Believing the ink of my pen to be my blood on this paper