STOP.
As I sit here,
Just typing the words that enter my heart
And then pump to the rest of my lonesome corpse,
I think, “What the hell have you ever done for me?”
I am the idea man, the one who thinks of stuff on a whim
And stupidly shares with you.
In your eyes, I’m the man to be gunned down;
Your response to anything and everything I ever have to say
Is always the goddamn same thing, “Don’t do that.
You can’t do that, you’re wasting your time.”
You are the one person in my life
Who makes me feel low,
Who chooses to bring me down,
Who has to have this Titanic I’m steering sink.
You bring me to the point
Where I have tears falling upon the keys
Of this keyboard; if I could see what my tears
Are spelling out, I would see the word H-A-T-E.
You make me want to hate you-
Your neglect,
Lack of sympathy, lack of love,
Lack of simple, sincere, pure consideration
For my being makes me hate you.
When I’m with you,
A cold breeze chills me
To become frozen,
And thus, I now refrain from pouring
Out the rest of my being
And because I know you’ll throw
Out every particular passionate thing
I have to say and consider it meaningless jargon.
You hurt me, time and time again.
STOP.
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