That unwanted touch never felt so good. For the pain of the game is only for the love of playing. And just as Romeo pursed his lips to drink to his inevitable death, something clicks in every tenth graders head. This isn't true love. This is passionate lust from the minds of hormonal, trust fund kids that is only for mere attention. But what is the point?? Shakespeare, why thou writeth this tragedy?? To remind civilization that we only want what we can't have, or better yet, what we are told is bad for us. Cause where is the fun in living, if we are gonna die anyway??
I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.
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