If I could wipe that smile off her face, I would, return all the back stabbing, return all the shame, return everything. Now its time to let the symphony play its tune, as my flutes rage to their highest notes your trumpets sit and quiver. Let us play, let us play, let us play the game you began, while writing this I smile, thinking of your temperamental state... am I sick?
No, no that is not the answer to what I am, I am just me, and too underestimated, oh please pout when you can't figure out what's wrong, keep on laughing those fake laughs because when it all comes down to this subsequent out come you are the laughing stock you are the shame.
From me you have stolen everything I stand for.
I hate you, I hate me.
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