To the writer that I read out of pity

I have your name etched in my browser bookmark
In my head still there's pieces of I Couldn't Help It
how I don't quite get it on the first glance from the windows of a ******'s life
now, in hindsight, still
my favourite of all
I creep almost constantly on your writings
clinging to the lights you reflected onto my life.
You were my very first visit to this site
You are the path of how I'm here.

I thank you
I thank you, Santa Moon Humor Leah Rost.

Did you know
That I'd like a chance
Because scary as it sounds
I already love you
Did you know that?

He does not give me butterflies

Anymore.

No, the feeling he gives me in my stomach,

It stings.

That is all.
The title explains itself.
And if I could have back my wasted time,
I'd waste it on something else.

They stabbed her
Gnawed at her body
Feeding off her every
insecurity.

They punched her
Repeatedly, rhymically
Beating the life and soul
away.

They thought it was funny
They thought it was clever
They thought it was cool

They knew it wasn't correct.

They thought that
taunting with someone's life was a joke
That it was hilarious
to tip somebody over the edge
That it was satisfying
to bring someone down

That it was clever; the way they forced their victim
to
drown.