Look at you
Look at what you've become
You think this is happiness
Her under your thumb
Her resolve breaking down
The parts used to fix your life
Her medium of release
The blade of a knife
This is abuse
In its emotional sense
Using sadness and anger to manipulate and hence
It doesn't take much
To bring a state of vex
This relationships a cycle
Of pain and ***
*** only providing a temporay relief
Before our eyes are opened
To the strife and grief
Yet she defends you
Once said its problems at home
With each word in your defense
I think Stockholm, Stockholm
Since her resolve is crumbling
To ashes and dust
I ask myself whether its love or lust
Lust its loss
A fear of losing control
Like you did with another
Like you did as a whole
Thats why she"s your second
Thats why you're with her
A girl who never argues
Retaliates or infers
So you can remain in control
Keep her in a drone like state
Where her spirit is in your hands
Where you decide her fate
So I write this poem with the hope
That she will find
That a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind

Someone told me I was ugly but I should not be worried right, I looked like my ancestors and they got laid  They probably did freaky stuff, bare back in a cave.  But what if I look like there ugly brother   What if I shouldn't bother   But someone said I was a hopeless romantic  Those that mean I will never have romance?   Cause I am on my back hoping I am in a comma and the real me is way more **** and maybe if I work hard enough I wont be this ugly but beauty isn't skin deep, it is locked in the genes and my Mom brought mines at Primark.  Well I guess lust is overrated and I might die a ****** but I can strip someone naked by revealing there emotions  Some one told me I was ugly, and I agreed.