Talking after, to myself

And another thing;

Stop covering up for her.

She's not a real friend.

The knives she has

A full set, just for back stabbing.

She keeps trophies.

And another thing;

I'm thinking of quitting.

There is no satisfaction here.

Not anymore.

I can dumb things down,

So much.

And dilute it all, but it'll still be

Taking a piss.

And another thing;

I hate myself so, see,

I Can't reach the depth,

Where I the pain growing.

All I do is bullshit,

Write snide little things,

Cruel and silly,

And tap myself on the shoulder

Thinking I'm like all the others

Who actually bleed.

All these things I tell you,

but only after you leave.