Blender

I made a promise
That I knew,
Honestly,
I’d never keep.
And it doesn’t matter
Because little girls
Will still ruin things
And pretend that their
Stereotypes of emotions
Are the first to ever
Have been felt.

Everyone is a person you sanctimonious sons of bitches. Everyone has a past, you are not so damn special to feel vulnerable or closed; that’s human life. Stop thinking you’re an artist because you can write words down, you asshole, you vis of talent, you damn hack.

But I will still try
Because I have nothing
But a hope to hang
Myself with. Oh, noose!
Hang softer, or just let me die.
The little girls are
Ruining it for everyone:
These pretend princesses
Who love nothing more
Than to snicker and connive
And roll in the mud
Of everything they ‘hate’
But ‘loving’ everything,
Not knowing what words
Actually mean, God damn it.
All in the veil of the arts, too!

Die and burn in Hell. When I am finally done wandering, I’ll meet you there. Pricks.