The devil sits on both of my shoulders. The right side thrives off each of my insecurities, while the left side guides me down bottomless pits, putting me in never ending trouble. My demons crawl under my skin, possessing my each and every thought and action. I try to fight it, but the possession takes over my feelings too. Making me enjoy the pain. Enjoy bringing people down to hell, because of how lonesome it gets.
I will manipulate you. I’ll tell you how beautiful you are, while I’m possessing pieces of your heart. I’m going to take each and every piece besides one, so you will still be able to feel the emptiness you have after I stole your heart. Please cry to me, and tell me how much I hurt you. The sadness I caused you turns me on more than you ever did by taking off your pants. You always scream how much you hate me, but my interpretation is more valuable than those three disgusting ******* words: I love you.
I’m ripping you to sheds turning your life into a very hell, while you keep coming back. Pleading for your heart, where I have it stashed with all the others. I never cared about the first one, the second, and so on up to you: and I will never care about the other ones continuing my game after you. You turn into the devil when you let your demons take control, thriving off the suffering of others while you’re locked up in Hell. I can’t care about the pain of others because I’ve been numb for so long.  I’m the  paradox of being the heartless girl with too many hearts.