Ode To A Suffering Fool

You've stopped being a good human. You'll have to explain why someday.
You need to figure it out or you’ll never forgive yourself. Never.
You'll still be walking your destructive path 3 new lives from now.
You're now the one that won't talk. You keep it all inside.
You won't let me help you. Your ego is a cancer.
Everything is you. I'm just an old toy crumpled up in the corner.
You were meant to live alone, and to suffer alone.
And to drive yourself fucking crazy. I just don’t understand.
You're sick.
Sick of yourself, of your own standards, your emotional ignorance.
Of your fucking lies, your deceit, your half-truths, your secrets.
You've keep me around, but in the dark.
Because my fears don't count. Because my love doesn't count.
Because you don't give a fuck what happens to me.
Just as beautiful as you are, it's so pitiful what you are.
Your troubles are so deep.
You think more about the bottle than tomorrow.
Spirits enter you and evaporate through your flesh.
You've become a respectable worker in the field of badness.
I'm fucking stupid, all you care about is you in the now.
You take all that is given, and steal that which is not.
I'm exhausted.
You've been driving me insane.
Fuck him. Love me. Fuck him. Miss me. Fuck you.
But I'm not a puppet for your ego, for your failures.
Enjoy your hole. Have fun rotting by yourself. Alone.
I will not be there the day your mother dies.
I've never been this mean to anyone, and it's the last skill I learn from you.
It's the last time I let myself be this way.
It's for me, not for you.
It's time to think of myself, of my own needs.
Because I see no future with you.


-shout to Sex and Lucía, F. Weltsch, and 10 Days