/I said ay mama, you seem to forget, I'm not in love yet

/I said ay mama, you seem to forget, I'm not in love yet

i dont care anymore; there's no point.
i mean, come on. no one cares anymore, just no one.
its the norm.
so quit doing it.
I'm not the only one whos screwed up within,
take a look.
people with even worse sadistic desires.
doing more immoral things
than me
why just tell me this, just me,
dont give me that cliche line
it's not for my own good
its not because you think you're for real
you know it too
you've been through it, let me find my way by myself
even a butterfly thats struggling out of it's cocoon (i rmb asking the teacher how to spell this in a science exam -_-), when helped, it wont fly. it just cant.

but it's like i've so much to say
but the publicity of blogs, even diaries
unthinkable.
the main purpose of censorship is to block out the raw thoughts,
it's originality
just turns it all into another story, like black is to white
the way im telling you im happy when im so broken within

you're not the only one,
feeling like someone marked an X over your sore aching heart
with each stroke causing much tremor within
then thrusting with full force
probably some sharp metal rod
straight on, with perfect aim
right through it
and leave you there to bleed
even if he doesnt know
to walk past him
with the utmost desire to grab him by the shoulders there and then
kiss him, slap him, by all means
tell him how much you hate him
yet love him at the same time
and afterwards, let him tell you that he has another
but you just cant stop all those thoughts with him in it
running through your brain like water through pipes
be it perverse or pure, fantasy or reality

maybe the worst is to see him
in a time or place after that
maybe even to just interact, to talk to him

but i guess the magic of his words,
either traps you further, or sets you free.
dont go into it
it's not a pretty place to be in
maybe,
an apology from him
the breaking of your heart
though sour,
makes the tears fall
even if you're really controlled
would just make you happy in the passing time.

it'll heal.
and no, im not happy about that. why would I be?

Skin the color of cinnamon
His eyes light up and I melt within
Feels so good it must be a sin
I can't stop what I started
I'm giving in
He brings life to my fantasies
Sparks a passion inside of me
Finds the words when I can not speak
In the silence, his heartbeat is music to me