it hurt when she took you from me,
but it hurt even more when you
willingly let her.

I watch movies about
angry little boys
and angry little girls,
and I cry because I'm jealous
that their spirit
never tired them out
the way mine did to me,
so I've stopped bothering
being mad about the fact
that my anger remains
untouched by true reality.

i really cant wait for the day
when someone asks
why im sad, and why
my smile looks too real
to actually be real,
and it's gotten to the point,
where i tell myself
that someone will notice,
and when they do,
ill marry them.

its okay if you
dont love me,
im fine from
the side, only as your
friend, deep in the
depths of
skinny love.
i know im upset,
and i know you
want me happy,
but ****, what would
i give for even
demons to be real,
so i could purchase your love
with mine.

oh please, *******
and your opinion,
good deeds are selfish,
dont you know, so why
dont u spare me the kindness
of blessing me without
your words for a while,
just like i fail to do to you,
with everything u dont want
to hear,  
sorry i guess,
but if she can come off as bipolar,
so can you.

can hearts be heavy like
the bags under my eyes,
or is my
illusion of gratitude
just stronger than
my effort to stay awake