As if something rough around the edges,
Can't still be ******* splendid.
You think just because it's perfect,
It'll have some happy ******* ending?

Now I know I'm not over her,
But don't really know why.
And I haven't wanted to cut myself,
In quite a long time.
So how do I synchronize,
These little red lines?
I don't quite remember,
But I'll remember to try.

Conceited beings,
So similar to the evil in your genius.
The right parts.
With the wrong reasons.

Why did these people add me?
Do they even know who I am?
Or even can they?

Battle scars, of where I've been.
How do you fix a childhood, this frightening?
A first lust that gave you breath, a reason to sing,
So you found another, a first true lover, and you picked up the pen.
An emotionally abusive mother, who has terrified all of your friends.
One that's massacred all your brothers heads.
And many screws are loose in my head.
How can I tighten them?
Batten down the hatches?
Open up to the wind and the masses?
Hoping someone could understand,
Maybe they'll have a proper screwdriver on hand.
But such is rare.
With not many hands on hand

I feel silly
I feel negative
I feel willfully,
Needing a sedative.

Damaged, from something imagined.
Story books,
With **** poor planning.
Fairy tales, had my heart dancing,
Since I was a boy.
But never has it happened,
The way I thought it would,
No joy.
Or there were, for some seconds.
But realistically,
There are no,
Happy endings.