My Little Buttercup

The death of me is the death of you,
To kill me, to kill your innocence too,
But that has long since flown away,
Leaving a once divine heart to rot and decay,
But fear not now, for I am here,
I shall protect and watch over you my dear,
But if your knife should find my back,
Let all my aching limbs go slack,
Then from my grave I shall rise up,
And haunt you forever, my little buttercup.