For what it's worth,
I despise you.
I hate your guts,
and everything you do.
For what it's worth,
you're utterly worth less
than junk mail in the can,
than a penny in the gutter,
than water doused with sand.
For what it's worth,
I did bite my tongue.
It wasn't all you,
but what you did was still wrong.
Jewels of plastic
decorate the ground.
Worthless.
“Love”
throws filters over your eyes,
giving you false hope,
obstructing your view.
It made you desperate.
I bet that's your excuse,
huh?
But this act of treason
is inexcusable.
You played russian roulette,
and when the gun was at your head,
you shot at me instead.
Over.
And over.
And over again.
You shoved me down,
yet I would still stand for you.
But not anymore
cause now the gun is aimed at you,
my finger on the trigger.
Could pull it any time I like.
I'm in control now.
I could end your whole life.
I could tear this world apart,
light a match, set it all
just the way you did my heart.
I could destroy everything,
make a scene of your fall!
My blade is sharper,
colder,
than that of your betrayal.
Now who pulls the strings?
Oh, the outcome would be so fatal!
Your puppetry has gone on long enough,
the act is over, now I'm the star!
Spotlight on me,
center stage
and with a twinge of my finger,
watch things fall apart.
But what good would it do?
So,
for what it's worth,
it isn't.