I can’t sand you,
Yet you’re of my blood,
You have me wound so tight,
You like to push,
Just to see where,
My temper will snap tonight.
You’re meant to be an image,
To love,
And to adore,
And it’s the same,
Old shit again,
That brings me to the floor.
If I did not defend,
Would it be as bad?
If I didn’t stand up for myself,
But I can’t do that,
I can’t stand down,
So I’m ignored as an old toy on a shelf.
You’re supposed to,
Be my hero,
Yet you’re little more than scum,
But here we stand,
Same old fight,
I’ll have to wait for the real hero to come.
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mrrrrrrrrr
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*->>you're born of a jackel, you're beautiful!<<-*
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