Sitting here,
   the bastard's in the living room,
               on the chair.
The one I keep talking about,
   the bastard who fucked me up so much.
He doesn't seem so bad,
   not so scary,
               but I fear him desperately.
He's the one who changed me,
   the one who made me who I am.
I desperately want to go beat the life out of him.
I want to destroy the man I fell in love with,
   make him show me the one who lies beneath the skin,
               waiting to destroy me again.
He says he knows what he did,
   but I daydream about beating him as I scream through bloody tears,
               "do you really know what you did?"

04/06/2009

Posted on 04/07/2009
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