You know how I know I'm not a woman?
Because I have a penis
You know how I know I'm not gay?
Because I'm not attracted to men
You know how I know I'm not you?
Because I'm not a blind-sided moron
I don't state my feelings
Then say they're a joke
When they're not
You know why I let you bother me?
Because there's nothing better to do tonight
You know why you bother me so much?
Because I've heard it all my life
And wiped it off my shoulder
or tried to
And now I'm just sick of it
So fucking sick I could hurt you
But if I hurt you then I'd be you
And there goes my whole point
What's the point of points?
To those that do not care to hear them
That do not hear them
Because they can't think outside of
Their own head
Think outside your head and you might see what's at stake
You could destroy it all with the right (wrong) words
There's a beauty in that, and there's a fear
A big huge fear that can destroy you if you let it
But what are you to the world?
Maybe you're right
Maybe this conceited way is the way to go
But how can you know?
You may be happy from ear to ear
But your soul, your fucking soul...
Does it no longer exist
or does it just slowly diminish...?
I don't cry for you
I hate you
I cry for us all
And I die
Alone
But with some ill-fated form of content
deep down
...Is that really so much better?
IS IT?
I don't know
I still do not know
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