"So you can make me cum, it doesn't make you Jesus"
I wrote a poem in with my new pink pen in my new comp. notebook. This will be "Book 2". I haven't written in forever, and I'm pleased with myself for getting back to it. Such a release. Had a bad day today, bitches at work, Jonas and his breakfast woes, my mom making me watch Dr. Phil's special tonight because she obviously thinks I'm a bad parent also. Whatever. Nervous about school. Alarm clock is broken. House still a mess, but hey-I'm lazy. Here's the poem:
Untitled
"Joe lies, when he cries...when he cries."
Don't they all.
If it's them, not me...
If there's "PLENTY OF FISH IN THE SEA"...
If I can do "SO MUCH BETTER"...
And "WHY DON'T YOU FIND A GO-GETTER???"...
If the two of us "JUST AREN'T RIGHT"...
And I try with ALL my might...
Why does it hurt so much?
Why can't I get over it?
Why can't I just let go?