I'M NVT SVRRY

CVLD BLVVDED

I'M NOT SORRY, YOU'RE STILL A BITCH, YEAH, YOU'RE DISGUSTING AND TOXIC, MY HEART'S STILL POISONED BY SOMETHING, PAIN IS SO SHARP THAT IT FEELS LIKE BURNING. I KNOW MY WORTH, ALL YOU GET FROM ME IS A KNIFE IN YOUR HEART, YOUR SOUL IS DIRT, THAT BLACKENS ALL HEARTS 'FORE BREAKING 'EM APART. I CAUGHT A TRAP BUT I WILL BE THE LAST, I WILL PUNCH RIGHT THROUGH YOUR HEART, I REMEMBER OUR PAST, YOU DON'T HAVE A SOUL, YOU MADE ME A GHAST, WHY DO YOU THINK OF ME AS A TOY OR AN OUTCAST? I AM NOT SORRY FOR HATING YOU, I WISH I WEREN'T WORRIED BUT IT IS TRUE, I'm still attached to you and AT THE SAME TIME WANT TO SEE YOU COVERED IN YOUR BLOOD, It tears me apart and I can't decide WHETHER TO RETURN TO YOU AND TRY TO START ALL OVER AGAIN, Or send everything to hell and take a knife and PLUNGE IT INTO YOUR BLACK HEART... I WANNA SEE YOU COVERED IN YOUR BLOOD, Uh, I WANNA SEE YOU COVERED... IN YOUR OWN BLOOD...

2021-03-31 12:02:55

Інші вірші поета

GV FVR A SMVKE BREAK NEW_SCRATCH MAKE ME MVRE DEAD Cold-blooded for the whole life

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I saw a dream, and there were you, And there was coldness in your eyes. I wonder what a kind of true Made you become as cold as ice. And later I looked back to get a sense This empty glance was hellish call of past. It used to be a high and strong defense Against the world, the pain and me at last. You looked at me, and peering in your soul, I felt so lonely, as something vital died. And that is what I fear most of all - That nothing gentle will remain inside. Inside of you. Inside of me as well. And nothing will be said to farewell.

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Черничные пироги, молоко с мёдом. Приходи. Почитаю тебе стихи и раны замажу йодом. Буду исцелять поэтапно все твои трещинки и порезы, даже в твоё заледеневшее сердце, поверь мне, — смело полезу. Повір! Залізу без страху. Без жалю, не боячись. Бо наше розпалене вогнище змушує бути хоч чимось. І тільки не хвилюйся — ми не розчинимось. Ні одне у одному, ні у часі. Мы снова столкнёмся, неспособные противостоять этой связи. Истощенные, но в друг друге, нашедшие дом. Якщо не перше життя, то і не перший том. Не перший різновид мов у моїх віршах. Не найдёшь меня в жизни? Отыщешь во снах. За той дверью, где я нам в пирог добавляю чернику. Приходи. Мне одной без тебя здесь ужасно дико.

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