I don’t cut myself, I don’t need,
Sharp objects to make me bleed.
You don’t notice, you don’t see,
Incisions you once made on me.
I’m sick of waiting, out of time,
To repair your life, salvage mine.
I don’t want you, nor your shit,
I don’t fucking love you, get it?
You said I’m so cynical, so cold,
Those words by you are so bold.
You’re a hypocritical, delusional,
Sad, sad excuse of a human soul.
You are best, at being the worst,
Selfish, mindless bitch on earth.
Your heart, your small brain lies,
In between your legs and thighs.
I don’t pity, I don’t give a fuck,
About your issues, and your luck,
When your pants are on the floor,
Twice as often as they are worn.
There is no desire, no urge at all,
To be another picture on the wall,
Of your fame, of my degradation,
As just another sexual sensation.
I can’t help, I have no desire to,
Fix any of these problems for you.
I bleed to death each day as it is,
You will not take me with one kiss.
I suffered, learned from mistakes,
You won’t be why my heart breaks.
Some never accept, some never try,
To figure out how, figure out why,
Life is so bad, it should be so easy,
And all of the blame is aimed at me.
I don’t love you, and I never will,
When you see that you might heal.