~C.C very loved~
One-thirty-six
It is one-thirty-six in the morning,
my eyes are stretchy and yet somehow,
sleep cannot find me.
It feels as if I were a child again,
there is this voice in my head.
My room is dark,
the mirrors shine with the ligth of the screen.
I'm paranoic, so people say,
seeing that what isn't there.
I said I felt like a child again,
because I am not.
Yet here I am, confessing,
and it is one-thirty-nine.
I don't know where to start,
and the seocnds go by...
He asks, and he screams at me.
And it is now, one-forty-one.
I've heard this cry, a thousand times,
but now it is more bitter, more full of hate.
[All I said was I was bored of this game]
It was three-thirty,
and I was feverish.
It was three-fourty-nine,
and I was caugth. [Feverish, cheating]
We all bore in the end,
I merely said this aloud.
And for once...
It is one fourty-three,
and I am asleep.
I'm sorry.
--------------------------------
-WARNING- Constant and blantant use of the 'F' word
Hate me.
If I ask, I know you will say yes
[No]
Is there any better chance of getting you to say,
that you do not love me? Yes.
And for all those times I've made you suffer...
Do you [********] hate me?
Yes. [no]
You're too unconditional, too perfect,
too-fairytales-have-happy-endings.
I don't belive in that.
Yes you do, no matter how many times I've cheated.
[To your goddamned face]
You still wanna forgive me.
It doesn't go like that.
It was all on purpose.
I don't want you, less love you.
I dont [********] care about you!
But you do, and in the nigth you're there
like the first time [we played] standing beneath
the window sill,
in the wet yard.
[Waiting for me to say [I love you] not.]
You still forgive me,
you still love me.
[Go beg to somebody who gives a [******** want to hear that you hate me
[with the flame of your ******** guts]
Maybe then I'll beg back.
Maybe.
