Myself, sitting and waiting
Ever so hopeful that maybe the words are true,
I think, maybe you miss me like I miss you.
Pondering; Thinking.
I hate myself for wasting away,
The thought of you is the full extent of my entire fucking day.
Sit, hope, fuck I even pray...
Yet it's not shit to you but this silly little game.
I'm always the shoulder you can fall back on,
A wind-up toy,that follows the childs hand,
You are my master, I hate being this way.
I want control of myself, independence,
I hate who I've become, hate who I am.
Wondering why you won't fucking decay in my broken past,
Just fucking die, burn away, turn to dust; go the fuck away.
Moving on seems so hard to reach,
So high up is that glorious task
But it seems as if I can never even touch this goal,
To get over you, we need to dig a feet six hole.
Tie her down,
Bullet to the mouth,
As of right now; I say fuck torture;
I can't bear to hear any sound.
Once you're gone, bury you deep,
Maybe then it'll all be better,
Maybe then I can sleep,
And maybe then I can walk on my own two feet.
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