SHUT UP.
Shut the HELL up.
About lies and drugs and bittersweet love,
About getting "knocked up" because "he took off his glove"...
Let's face the facts: This is all you feel.
But this reality isn't real.
You're not being deep when you cut your wrists,
Paper-thin skin and ambien does not "win".
YOU WERE HURT.
So was I.
We all were, it happens.
I don't want to hear and fear the plagued and the queer,
The butterflies dying and small children crying.
NO.
SO SHUT UP,
And move on. He or she's gone. It's done.
No sense in dappling yourself in hate to other people who you think "relate".
It's not poetry just to bitch and moan about how you hate to be alone.
So stop.
Get out and seize the day,
Look, go,
Run and play.
Try to be yourself.
I think I know that deep inside you've never killed you've never cried
Your pretty pony never died.
So put away the pen and ink and ask yourself to really think:
Am I this depresed? Or am I just bored?
Shut the HELL up.
About lies and drugs and bittersweet love,
About getting "knocked up" because "he took off his glove"...
Let's face the facts: This is all you feel.
But this reality isn't real.
You're not being deep when you cut your wrists,
Paper-thin skin and ambien does not "win".
YOU WERE HURT.
So was I.
We all were, it happens.
I don't want to hear and fear the plagued and the queer,
The butterflies dying and small children crying.
NO.
SO SHUT UP,
And move on. He or she's gone. It's done.
No sense in dappling yourself in hate to other people who you think "relate".
It's not poetry just to bitch and moan about how you hate to be alone.
So stop.
Get out and seize the day,
Look, go,
Run and play.
Try to be yourself.
I think I know that deep inside you've never killed you've never cried
Your pretty pony never died.
So put away the pen and ink and ask yourself to really think:
Am I this depresed? Or am I just bored?
