Don't you hate it when...

You tear yourself up because you hate the way you are,

And you take all this time to build the fragments into a shiny new person,

But when you look in the mirror you can see that underneath the new skin you're still brimming full of old crap.

Such a pity, such a waste they would say, when someone as young as me dies.

It really isn't when I'm partially dead already.

Always hitting the same nerves repeatedly hoping to lose feeling ... that's me.

<< >>