Sitting, a blank piece of paper stained with water
and the grease of my sweaty fingers;
knocking my desk, keeping up with my indecisiveness...

I come up with whatever I did years ago
that I'm still unable to get over with.
No matter how much I brag about being honest,
-I'm not-
I never stop ******* lying to myself.
Every way I look at it,
I'm right, but the other one's wrong. Why?
It's not that they're dumb and can't think;
they don't care, unlike me.

A mistake turns me into a coward
and it's my fault for lingering to it,
as if I could change anything,
as if I could put myself out of blame.
I always ***** out of wherever I am
whenever I finish arguing with someone,
blaming myself for everything like a ******* kid
or an ignorant, stupid, blind and abused wife.

I think she should be abused,
but I'm not brave enough to do it myself.
I don't want to teach her anything,
that'd mean I care about her.

Then it's my arms and my legs that start shaking.
If any of you saw me, you'd think I'd been *****
and I'm shaking because of how hard the thrusting was.

Can't pay attention to whatever's in front of me,
the sadness is unbearable,
nobody's fault but mine;
then, it becomes annoying and I start *******
about what I did wrong
and what she did wrong.
I'd think both ways, we were both to blame;
but she'd never stop thinking I believed I was always right.

Childish. To think that she loved being right
and would act so stupidly, bragging about it.
What a pathetic woman.