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Sunday, May 20, 2007

put a gun to my heart
let everything return to the start

if spoken words were
so meaningless
so useless
so helpless
at getting my feelings across...
since those words would've died along with my thoughts anyway...
then never again will i bother to voice them out..

why should i bother explaining so much.?
no matter what i say,
no matter how much i say,
your mind is already set
your verdict already cast
you ask me whats my fucking problem.?
sure, i'll tell you whats my fucking problem.
but would you even care.?
would you even listen.?
everything is my fault wad.

its my fault that you find it hard to praise people but easier to scold
its my fault that nothing i do seems good enough for you.
its my fault for making you say fuck seven times.
yeah you bleed just to know you're alive




she's not here @

9:48 PM