You're long done feeling bad for the sickening person you've become.
What the fuck. I'm not even sorry for moving on (with such torment).
Fuck you and your privileges. Enough with "I can't help that my body couldn't keep up with the way my heart feels", you and your crafty ways to make me weak so I'd let my guards down, again, for one 'last' promising shot.

I'm fucking over with losing who I actually am and demeaning myself time after time in order to make you stay. It's not me you thought you loved, anyway.

Why the fuck do I bother with these non-endearing directions. The victim role was destined to cling onto me. I am never permitted to lose my cool or walk away from your motherfucking gigantic ego, never offered a breather, a human right to stand my grounds, to be considered, to be remembered, to be saved. You're so blinded with the praises ignorant people sang you, fucking hell with the sort of brains you were blessed with. With such intelligence, you even successfully deluded your conscious self that you deserved every fucking bit of this despite knowing all is just a facade of who you truly are beneath your smiling faces and ridiculously tedious accent-sh talk. Such overpowering arrogance and dominance you lived in these years. So used to the things and ways I allowed you to feel simply because I decided from the instant I gave you my hand, I'd be the one that loves you more. This is not about us anymore, it's just about you. You being worshiped by me every fucking moment even if you fail me ways you shouldn't have. You being the one I fear. You being the one that thrives. I never had a damn voice, never had experienced the pair of familiar loving arms around me with innocence of a man just trying to soothe the storm in it's girl. Sure I might have chances where I pushed my luck and talk a whole load of crap to you which you never once read.

Since I realized I was never taken seriously.
I won't too.

I've left every inconclusive dispute with a less broken heart, and witnessed myself shedding lesser tears over 'supposedly stupid affairs' in the past few months of solitary; and today.

I've left behind old hopes and dreams, the start of every new conflict now slowly wakes me up to reality.

Things aren't the same anymore, it probably never will be for us. If it hits you at one point, amongst your oh-so enriching life, you've been missing me, then come seek me, and truly, with repentance you will find me.

I used to adore you with the whole of my heart.
Now it's just fragments of pity.

As of 3:26AM on the 7th of February 2014, this is still love finding it's place inside my veins, just that, well, things aren't the same anymore.

You're long done feeling bad for the sickening person you've become.
What the fuck. I'm not even sorry for moving on (with such torment).
Fuck you and your privileges. Enough with "I can't help that my body couldn't keep up with the way my heart feels", you and your crafty ways to make me weak so I'd let my guards down, again, for one 'last' promising shot.

I'm fucking over with losing who I actually am and demeaning myself time after time in order to make you stay. It's not me you thought you loved, anyway.

Why the fuck do I bother with these non-endearing directions. The victim role was destined to cling onto me. I am never permitted to lose my cool or walk away from your motherfucking gigantic ego, never offered a breather, a human right to stand my grounds, to be considered, to be remembered, to be saved. You're so blinded with the praises ignorant people sang you, fucking hell with the sort of brains you were blessed with. With such intelligence, you even successfully deluded your conscious self that you deserved every fucking bit of this despite knowing all is just a facade of who you truly are beneath your smiling faces and ridiculously tedious accent-sh talk. Such overpowering arrogance and dominance you lived in these years. So used to the things and ways I allowed you to feel simply because I decided from the instant I gave you my hand, I'd be the one that loves you more. This is not about us anymore, it's just about you. You being worshiped by me every fucking moment even if you fail me ways you shouldn't have. You being the one I fear. You being the one that thrives. I never had a damn voice, never had experienced the pair of familiar loving arms around me with innocence of a man just trying to soothe the storm in it's girl. Sure I might have chances where I pushed my luck and talk a whole load of crap to you which you never once read.

Since I realized I was never taken seriously.
I won't too.

I've left every inconclusive dispute with a less broken heart, and witnessed myself shedding lesser tears over 'supposedly stupid affairs' in the past few months of solitary; and today.

I've left behind old hopes and dreams, the start of every new conflict now slowly wakes me up to reality.

Things aren't the same anymore, it probably never will be for us. If it hits you at one point, amongst your oh-so enriching life, you've been missing me, then come seek me, and truly, with repentance you will find me.

I used to adore you with the whole of my heart.
Now it's just fragments of pity.

As of 3:26AM on the 7th of February 2014, this is still love finding it's place inside my veins, just that, well, things aren't the same anymore.