My bitterness stems from the urge to hold onto things I can't control
I'm very controlling
A weakness
But you can imagine the struggle
You know how they say if you get chills someone walked on your grave?
You weren't only so disrespectful as to walk on my grave
You spit on it
And my skin still crawled with pleasure for you
It's like a sickness
It would be a honor to wake with Amnesia
I'd forget the way I let you push me around
My vocabulary lacks the words to remotely make your disgustingness look ravishing
And why would I?