Perhaps; we still will see.
After all this is permanent
(a Sharpie of green ink).
And I don’t feel like looking
over the writings I have done.
No one believes me evil-
they were lied to just for fun.
So I hate you at the moment
and tomorrow’s not looking grand.
This flows out like a current
will you take my outstretched hand?
The space is getting smaller;
who knew I’d run out of room?
Who thought I’d say all this s*** with a pen
in my dark room?
I hope I cannot read this,
I think it’s a bit much.
Kind of like a pepper
that singes when you touch.
So say goodbye to sweet Bri
she’s gone and won’t be back.
I tied her up and shoved her down
I hate her crying bag.
She’s such a good little girl
what are you going to do?
Tell me to come back; return?
I doubt-I really do.