From the ***** of a saint ,
And the womb of a sinner
Comes a natural born winner .
Full of unrelenting hate
For these pawns that surround her
Drown her
Leaning her to ask is it
Abnormality or insanity ?
That plagues her mind
Cyanide dripped vanity
Trying to hide her hate for humanity
Ink screaming ,
"DONT TALK TO ME !"
Blood singing for like minded beings ,
Loneliness doesn't even have a meaning . ™

Awake to wind
whistling
Real wind battering

An old lover
overdue
Welcomed back home

The woods are my lover
They never let me down
The wind in my fur
The ground beneath my paws
I had forgotten how it feels
To just run
Dodging trees
Find a river
Run beside it for hours
Stop for a drink
Leave behind human burdens
Leave behind the pain
And grief
And just run

Scattered thoughts I can not explain
Scattered thoughts why am I to blame
Scattered thoughts all types of pain
Scattered thoughts slowly making me insane

some smells
make you retch
a rotten egg
for instance

Birds of a feather flock together,
which explains why I don't have many friends.
I'm an outcast even on the island of misfit toys.
I'm your childhood doll,
we're inseparable until you outgrow me,
until you stuff me in the bottom of your closet
for me to wait for you to take advantage of me again.
"Best friend" is a foreign expression
when everyone you let your guard down for rids themselves of you like the shedding of old skin.
I'm the last one picked for dodgeball,
for partners in English class,
for weekends out,
for a phone call,
for a text message.
If friends are supposed to be forever, I guess I forgot to read the fine print.
I'm what happens when lonely is less an adjective and more a personality trait.

Sometimes I check on you-
to make sure you're still here.
And I'm certain you don't know I do,
but I do.

I haven't even seen you in more than a year
and, truthfully, I don't really want to now.
But that doesn't mean I want you dead.