u cant spell subtext without buttsex
fill in the cavity
that's left from stress and anxiety
jokes, cigs and tea steam
validation for some goddamn self esteem

i know it gets better
but life's procrastinating, pushing better for later
it's fine for some time
but then again it all gets dissolved in some cheap ass nasty ass wine

you'd think i deserve to be happy
that this poem doesn't have to be sappy
but the past, man, it's haunting
manifests itself in sunset and spring shoes, leaving me longing

yeah, bitch, life is unfair
but can i even call this life? that's just plain despair
trying your best, being patient and wise
but it would just be so much easier if i had you and your brown fucking eyes

anyway what can i do
repeating myself over and over with occasional crying, too
why can't you just be fucking chill
this shit is painful, but i promised to fuck off so i will

whatever, dude
last time we spoke you were unnecessarily rude
i can't say i love you, let's cheer for that
but it didn't really change anything, i'm still the one lonely and sad

i need more drugs and more beer
more hookah more tinder less fear
call me pathetic, laugh and yell "loser"
at this point i cant even tell which one i am the abused or the abuser

@темы: я, блять, творю исскуство