Let's say, for a moment, I am you...
I have you oh so [horrible] life and your terrible pain...
And you are me,
The listener...To whom you tell all your tales of .disgusting. woe Because lifeis so hard for you, nobody,ever, knows or could understand the immense troubles you have.
heh.
/pity me/
it's the sign you carry...You cut yourself to show your scars with pride...You'll never cut deep enough, or you would already be dead.[inside and out]
You disgust me.
You think your the only one who has pain in their life?
I'm no angel, and though life's not hell I still know pain...I still feel, perhaps not like everyone else, but feel just the same...
[something your obviously incapable of, except greed]
What would you do if I decided to say, in the middle of your teenage -fucking- melodrama...I should have never taken the bullets outta that gun...or would you stop to listen?
Your greed seems a euphoric lust,/leeching/ off those empathetic enough to give a damn...I'm sorry your life is hard, but thats what makes the stuff thats good worth working for,or it would all be .meaningless. Just like you.
You claim to be passionate,to have a need to .feel.
Your numbness has taken hold,
It's much too late for you my dear...Manipulation will bring you nowhere but down, facing those you most treasured
[they served your purposes so well, did they not?]
Perhaps your numbness, has given you an effect opposite of that you claim to desire...
.Here's your [fucking] apathy, arriving on your much demanded silver platter...
And yet silver tarnishes, just like life...
I'm glad you didn't take the bullets out of your gun....
....it serves you right, that all the bullets were blank...
[you self-serving bitch.]
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