i go outside
and i despise
the sunlight in
that little girl's eyes

why was it me?
it hurt, you see
i'd have preferred
you to **** me

inside hurts
throbbing pain
shooting straight
to my brain

why was it me?
i'm not a toy, you see
i'd have preferred
you to skip me

bleeding soul
growing old
flesh is mold
love feels cold.