You better stop it Something unexpected Might just end up injuring you A press in a step A footprint permanently stained Might just end up with things railing off You better stop it Look what you’re doing to me My drive is alluding your well being You’re on my *** Ready to backstab me I’m not driving for revenge You better rearrange your lane Because if you don’t I’ll check you You better stop it Driving me crazy
Your lies have hurt , why do you talk sweetly to my face then turn around a spit them out with hate. Why do you pass around bad rumors like a mad note, if your trying to be funny well its a sad joke. You hurt me but I did not see it until it was too late. I cut off the chain that connected us. I bought a ticket to fly away from your negative space. Then I will rinse myself with soap so your hate might just wash right away.
love is handing them the knife to slash at your chains but hoping they don't stab you in the back.
love is disappointment
it is waiting up for messages never sent hoping someone remembers to remember you.
Love is a word over spent very seldom meant its the arrow of Cupid that kills you. its an emotion that disappears after it catches you unaware its the want not the need that fills you both elixir and poison the apocalypse in the horizon the fear of the loss that thrills you. the walls not the bridges the cuts not the stitches the fire and the thirst that wills you.
i’m a step latter. i’m kept between your fridge and the wall and barely make appearances. you only take me out when you need to reach the cereal from the top cupboard. you only use me when you’re in need. i guess i can say you rely on me... in a way. but you won’t let anyone else use me for fear of them getting hurt. then you’d have to shave out some money for their hospital bill to fix what i did. so after you’ve gotten your cereal, and the box is back in place, you shove me back between your fridge and the wall. sometimes, you forget i’m there completely. you’ll use the counter instead to hoist up and grab a bag of chips. and when you fall from trying to get down , you’ll run back to me, “i should’ve come to you,” you’ll say. but i know you’ll reclimb that counter when you don’t wanna use me. you don’t have to flatter me. i know you’re tired of me. you need the space between your fridge and the wall for your new step latter. it’s a better step latter, i’ll admit. it doesn’t wobble when it unfolds. it’s made of strong, shiny metal as opposed to my cracked plastic. and when i’m hiding between the tree and a trash outside, i realize you didn’t want me. you just needed something to stand on.