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Mar 2013
The machine's coldness seethed my hair
as the world sat on my shoulder
that made it surrender
like curtains on a steaming afternoon
sighing questions
and endless uncertainty.

I punched the buttom
wrecked number 3
that bled Espresso
which in this another night
of your absence

would keep me awake
as I intensively unstitch the truth
about your pathetically sewn inventions
and attack the facts
about the abnormality of your society
and irrationality of your culture.

I swear I ******* hate you.
And someday you will die,
*******.
Lacus Crystalthorn
Written by
Lacus Crystalthorn
921
   Oh Henry cried she and st64
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