Shatter, pitter-patter. Won’t open, or close, it’s stuck, problems arose and its bad luck. Step on a black cat, walk under a ladder, got something wrong with you, because you can’t stop emptying your bladder. I try to sympathise, so I panic, I now do it naturally; it’s a bit of a habit. I try to put myself in other’s shoes, because even when I’m wearing my own I haven’t got a clue, so at least if I’m wearing somebody else’s shoes, I have a better reason… well really it’s more of an excuse. I brush myself off; tell myself I’m okay, think about having no fear, when really I’m petrified, even worse than afraid. I remind you that you’re not a parasite, you’re more like dynamite, and you’re fit to explode, but you find a way to retain some control. You think of yourself as a dino, when I see more of a rhino, in you. It is a façade, your pretend rough exterior, it seems like you have motives and they appear to be ulterior. I’ve made the assumption that you’re truly a good person, but if you don’t soon openly act that way, things will become over-complicated and your condition might even worsen. I’m only looking out for you, why do you not get where I’m at? I’m not discarding you like the others did, so please at least respect that.
Windows by NamesKill.
February 28, 2012