I'm brave enough to listen blah, blah, blah.
And say my wof,wof,wof.
I wished to die every day this year,
And every single day my wish never came true.
Happy Birthday to me I guess.
I really don’t want to be here anymore.
I've been adrift before
On memories and happiness
On sunshine and rain
Falling from my face
But now im on a bit of a new drift
On one of misplaced trust
I've got a story to tell
I'm not very good at this sorta thing, but hell
I'll give it the college try so if it *****, oh well.
Allow me to tell you a story about my pathetic love life
I met a girl that seemed too good to be true
Had quite a bit in common and scratched those itches
What is this, odd thing im feeling
Who knows it's probably nothing
Anyway we talked very frequently and grew close
At least to the point where we felt comfy sharing intimate thoughts competently
After a little while I wanted to ask her out
Only to find out, on valentine's day no less
That's shes taken
****... another story going behind these drinks
My desire to be heard
Died long ago
In a notebook winding longer than the build before the great crescendo
And I noted in this
As a young man of old
As a conductor of sorts
Not attempting to refire all of the old songs turned cold
But rewriting them each for me alone
Indefinitely and until the long silence comes home
Experience allows me to not walk that path. Again and again. And thank God for that.
I gave you the shirt off my back,
And I watched you buy a coat.
You told me it was cold,
And left me naked in the snow.
I just want my shirt back. It’s the least you could do.
I give myself,
I give it all.
You never notice,
No one ever does.
It’s like the more I give,
The more you’ll take.
The more I love,
The more you hate.
I’ll most likely delete this. It’s not my norm.
It seems like pointless rambling. Just need to stop bottling it up before I explode.
Sorry. Hope you enjoy.
That crying child.
It's me, but I don't cry.
A man grown, It's unseemly.
That bitter man.
It's me, but I still smile.
I hide the **** misery.
That rotten corpse.
It's me, but I'm alive,
Still kicking and screaming,
But I will taste no victory.
Like torn and scattered pages
From a lengthy book.
I’m not sure if everyone is just vanilla.
Or if I see the world too openly.
But I’m constantly getting put into boxes I don’t feel I ever belonged to be in.