Nostalgia. I hate it !!
My body is a canvas,
And I paint a tragic tale. You are not my hero, I am trapped in
Hell. A razor is my paintbrush, and every artist needs a muse.
My only inspiration is Every time I'm used. I swear I know I
need help, but I don't want to stop. They tell me it's a bad
habit, but I feel like it's not. No, it hasn't killed me yet,
so who's to say it will? It leaves me numb and bitter, So I
don't need your pills. The blood is but a setback, I think I'll
be okay. We both know you can't save me. You never tried to
anyway. Oh, it's no big secret, ask me, if you'd like. I'll
show you a scar or two, And try to take some pride. Every scar
stands for, another day that I survived. Because at least, when
I'm bleeding I'm certain I'm alive. Console me with your words,
Such pretty, perfect lies. I don't need you next to me, I'm
telling you, I'm fine. My razor is my best friend, It know
secrets I dare not speak. And you are nothing to me, Just
another face on the street. I could replace you in a second,
With someone else who wears a mask, Because we all wear them,
We cover up our pasts.
If you are in love, you are lucky
because most of us are still bitter over someone.
At Starbucks
Worker: How do you like your coffee?
Guy: Black and bitter.. Just like my ex
wife.
Worker: How do you like your coffee?
Guy: Black and bitter.. Just like my ex
wife.
I tasted happily ever after
but it turned bitter on my tongue.
