Promises, sugar coated words. I might vomit over those stuff.
Pinky promises of 'gonna be there for ya' and 'we're one good match'
I call those bullshits.
Broken shits.
I don't mind being the one you'd pour out your sadness and silly rants
But where is the promise that you're gonna be there for the same thing when it's my time?
Where have those ugly honey-like remarks you blurted gone?
Where have those so-called concern you promised me gone?
I'm the one keeping both sides balance
I'm the one running to each ends to make sure none falls into agonizing grief
And I'm the one taking care of myself, too
People say, either I end this or I confront this
I say, it will be ridiculous
Nobody has ever been in my shoes
They don't know how it would affect both of us
Enough of that one particular past that still haunts me up until today
I cannot.
Sure, go and have your own life
For now I don't even give a frick on what you're going to do
I'm afraid this thing has been stained by my bitter feels
Call me stupid, I don't feel a thing.
Because it is broken already.
