That man is BAD
I'd like you to meet him, he that sleeps in your bed. He that is every bit of a gentleman, he who doesn't ask for anything, but secretly likes the best.
I'd like you to meet him, he who says "he loves you." He who never says "no," he that would even give up his life as long as you'd be happy.
That man was my friend.
I curse that day he stole what I loved most, stole it merely for his own ambition.
I know he is so handsome, glorious even, but he is a fallen angel. A curse.
That man is bad.
That man hurts.
That man doesn't love.
That man lies to you.
That man is bad.
He carries poison on his lips, his affection is an insult to your heart.
That man who says he "loves" you, he is just playing with you.
That "perfect" man is no more than betrayal.
He will say he'll always love you, under all conditions. And he'll fill you with kisses, give you his body, swearing all of his love.
But it's a lie, part of his lie, and just when he may have destroyed your life, another will come, receive the same signs of love.
