found this in an old book i used to write in
thot it was interesting since i know i wrote it with no inspiration:
i cry because you make me
you say its me, but really its you
you make me happy, yes
but than you rip the smile off my face and leave my mouth to bleed vicious and angry words into your ears
you say im evil
but your stupidity is the devil th@ possesses me
sometimes i cant even breath because my hate for you is starting to consume my soul and crush my lungs
i want to tell you how i feel, but for you to understand would be a miracle;
and i could never turn you, a lowly boy, into a god
than again, on occasion, you make me so happy
a happiness comparable to the moon shining its light in the deepest, darkest pit of my nightmares
i dont want you to go
you are my life source
and if you leave you pull the plug leaving me lonely and cold; dead
but i cant stand you
you break my heart with every word you say and grind it into dust with every word u dont
stars couldnt count the amount of sorrow my heavy heart feels with some of the malicious things you say
they eat at my insides like a cancer
they consume my thoughts like a freshly dipped i black paintbrush submerged in crystal clear water
you say im dramatic
but ull never know what goes on behind this painted on smile and the closed doors of my home
she sets me up
he breaks me down
you think you know?
psh you have no idea
and you never will
signed- my broken heart
No comments:
Post a Comment