I hate  you
I love you
Maybe it’s not good enough to be true.
I know enough
With the waters this rough.
I’m just not happy like I used to
Mad and angry resentful and sappy.
I’m tired of caring, pouring my heart,
It’s bleeding.
The ****** of blood from my wrists
Drip down my arm
And kids ?
The moral of the story is not to be told
But experienced and forever alone.