Today she lives feeling she’s ugly.
Life seems to get worse, and she seems to be unhappy.
The emphasis of a rancid life is abover her.
She thinks she’s lost…
For when you feel ugly…
Awakes; in the mirror the the self-relfection is observed.
Thinking; killing the self with those others’ words.
After hours it reaches the state of insanity.
All caused by insults, or a problem with the oblangata.
Think, I do, that I am what others think I am.
I ignore my self-opinion, and become the monster that they say I am.
My face ain’t pretty anymoe’, and now they force to believe that I’m ugly.
You say you love me.
Why can’t you accept me the way I am?
A simple gesture is all I urge.
I don’t want thy life, nor I want thy heart.
I want love, not criticism.
The path is long and rough. Life is a piece of shit, that I won’t deny. But we are better than what they think. They’re simple monkeys seeking love. But wonder we must, what’s love?
Is it the systemic “Get merried, worship God, and enjoy your tykes while you can.”
……………….NAY!!!……………….
What do they do? Say they love, say they’re faithful, and get excited with the nearest whore-stereotype. If i love I will love. My life, if necessary, I shalt give. And no matter what the love wilt endure.
Don’t let them get in you head. Motherfuckers should never waster out times, that I believe.