Do you really expect to get the love of your life?

When you don't respect yourself,
You post half **** pics, and say
“I give bomb head,” and yet
You dare to expect respect

This generation is confused
The girls are over used and
The women are under used
And waiting like a bomb with a fuse, but…
No boy goes to these women
No, they flood these girls
And the men wonder,
“Where did the women go?”

But the boys and girls worry
He's worried about how moist she is
And she's worried about how big he is
But, they don't know about love to give...

Not the truly bright kind
Because it’s only for one night,
And another night,
And another night,
Until she’s pregnant and no one’s wife
And the boy has left out of sight,
Saying, “I don't know this girl,
And I don't care about what's right,
I didn't bring that child into this life”

Yes the boys and girls worry
The girls are worried about fashion and boys
The boys are worried about rapping and hoes
But they just don't know when the money goes
The “love” goes, and they’re alone

But the men and women worry,
O they worry about their glory
As ladies and men that stand
**** as one before her and him

They ask the question, this they do

Ladies before a man enters you, you ask him:
Are you doing this for fun or for love?

Men before you enter a woman, you ask her:
Are you doing this for fun or for love?

Still the boy, he ask the girl to lick on the tip
Still the girl, grinning she bends and licks
The edge, the gap, of the endless precipice

A countenance of messages from her mother was missed,
As he puts his flesh on hers and hers on his,
Consensual **** for two children as they are just that...
Children, and if you tell them, "You're too young!"
As they *** they'll be deaf, blind, and indeed dumb
As they succumb to that numb…

They feel no need to hear, but to repeat the actions for the feeling they seek,
And in that way we sink as humans deeper into the sea of self-treachery,
Feeling that this escape will bring happiness when the consequence is settling,
Upon us with STDs and *** and as I see it, our children's children will be,
A generation of children with children, and then the world will end

Till then this is my plea to the children of the night,
I want to help you find the light, and to fight the good fight,
But you all make my soul cry, and the well has begun to dry.

You were the type of guy that girls hear about
surrounded by other people, almost always never alone
but even so, your voice remains a mystery.
You were the type of guy that girls swoon over
but it’s hard to pull you away and get to know you
your smile and laughter render them all in wonder.

I was the type of girl that guys hear about
from one friend to another and it goes on
but I walk these streets alone,
passing by the people I know
who don’t know me.
I was the type of girl that guys talk to
one of the boys, they call me
sometimes I'd lose myself around them.

I had the privilege to know you
our first class together, we were put into a group
I had not expect you to call my name
(but I wanted to call yours)
and as cliché as it sounds,
we spent a night of studying and laughing
and evidently falling in love
(without us knowing)

We made time for each other and became close
many times I admit, I forget that you weren't mine
(but it felt like I was yours)
too soon, time faded away
I found myself clutching onto you when time pried my fingers
shocked as I was, you were holding on to me too
yes, we fell in love in a way that it was too soon, too fast
we broke without sparing any cuts of our shattered emotions
I want to say that even now as we are glasses apart-
our love still reflects of each other.

Once upon a very long time ago
I didn't know you, or you I
we were strangers walking these ruined roads
and we happened to bump into each other
so we ventured to infinity together
not knowing where we’re heading, to be honest
we talked about our past, and our future
never did we realised that in the present
our past brought us to our future
so here we are, together but apart;
you are that type of guy that girls swoon over
and I am that type of girl that guys talk to.

My brain's a victim of my heart’s beating
It’s the only way that I can reason
Being blinded by all this red I’m seeing
It must be soul hunting season
My survival instincts go crazy
My pulse quickens its erratic pace
The howling wind blows ever more strangely
However the blood falling from my face
Makes my outlook kind of hazy
I'll never see the end of this chase
Many demons now plague me