*This is from me to me. Huh? Yeah. Sometimes, I yell and scream at myself and today I am sharing it. So, sit back, relax, and don't hate me in the morning. Please.
Sometimes maybe it's me I hate,...but oh wait isn't that what's bothering you in the first place....you needy little attention wanting piece of poetic plastic. That crap you write,....those echoes from the voices buried deep in the walls of your head that greasy, aching, spewing skull. A mouth full of twisted thoughts and spitting rusted memories and blinding events across these pages for these poor poetic people to read...to burn their damn eyes out with. What are you always thinking you addict of pain? When you do write happy songs you never sing for real. Your false smiles and trying to make your life happy through a little pretty poem. When that is not you today. NOPE. You today is ANGER. You are rage, and tight,and gritting teeth. You are crying today and sad and bitter, and why do you smile when it hurts? Why do say that things are great when you bloody well know that things are more than the opposite of that? Why do you pretend and inside wish for years of your life to be shaved? Are you afraid? Are you an angry girl with one too many tales to tell? One too many scars reflecting all the torture you endured through the years. Do you feel sorry for yourself that childhood dreams were actually spitting nightmares in halls of darkness and sandy feet? Do you hate the fact that so many nights of crying only turned you cold? Well get used to it you ill spirited paranoid freak of fumbling thoughts. Alright already enough!
*WoOops! Please excuse this projectile vomiting of the brain. *Peace?
[This message has been edited by SpitFire (edited 08-09-2000).]