Haha. I screampt in your face. I am the bug.
You didn't smote me. That's okay.
I am the bug.
I'm drunk and in love.That's okay?
Fucking kill me. I beg of you and you don't reply.
Are you a lie? Am I just a fucking joke and unworthy
of your eye? Am I simple enough to rhyme out these
ill begotten haha's and fuck you's? Now I see.
I see. They all fantasize about you. I'd rather blow my brains out.
No, really. The opportunity is there, but I don't? God, why don't I
just be the one to fucking put a bullet under my eyebrow. It's not like I
felt the love or felt the burn. Haha. Like I never felt the burn of love
or repetitive words. Haha, I could drink more lokos and still feel
the sting of scolding words of bitches that thought that they
were first to fix the broken guts of birds who felt the sting
of wretched up words
oh yeah
I'm drunk and I'm a skunk
THAT MEANS i STINK
of broken firms. Oh yeah. I'll just end it all tonight and then
I won't have to say 'that hurt.'
I love the lines "that thought they were the first to fix the broken guts of birds who felt the sting of wretched up words"
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Don't kill yourself, Your worth more than all the shallow bitches the oceans could hold. One day someone will see you for your soul. Until then let your emotions run out into amazing work like this!
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Haha, thanks. Don't fret; if I were going to kill myself I'd be dead already. The piece is less about suicide and more about anguish :)
Experience is the most genuine impetus for artistic expression, whether it involves pain or pleasure. Thanks for reading!
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