(no subject)

[severeallergy]

if only your story were not without tragedy,
your boredom strangles me,

and your reasoning and readiness to alert the world
to your rotten, foul, spoiled soul;

the inklings of talent do not outweigh the absolute
stench of your attitude,

as if your happiness is simply awaiting something
terrifying to break it free

as if your good natured self is pining for a disaster
to call your own, to harbor, to love & hold close,

but your synthesis is a sad void

you would be so beautiful with a history of pain