It's 9:32 PM and I am waiting for your message
like the hysterical ***** I am - you have no clue yet
the ghost of him lingers around and floats on air
or is merely a ghost all of myself?

It's 9:32 PM and I have already been here
The same old pressure in the chest and catastrophy
But this time I switch
This time, the pain I ditch

I swallow the pain like a pill
that slides inside my throat like an usual drill.
If you **** me over, I can leave.
Do not be that bleeding lady, that hurt chick.

This is good for writing poems, it is
but life and poetry do not always meet