Her

What is you problem!!..
I mean seriously man!.. get over your “I’m a damsel in distress” and I neeeed someone to come save me and where is my knight in shining armour?..
‘cause guess what!?..
We don’t give a fuck.
So you can whine and cry and shake your bangles and run around naked for attention cause screw you, your not getting any..
And if you don’t want me to pour limbu pani down your padded bra you might wanna paint on a ‘prettier’ face and non smudging kajal so we aren’t forced to look at you and feel guilty at the black stain ringing your eyes.
It’s not going to work anymore.
You’re like a fuckin bloodsucker!!!...you need someone to cling onto, to dig your long pointed vicious red nails into and now that we can see right through you, you’re scared!..
You’ve been scarred, we can tell, but so have we.
It’s just that we don’t catwalk around parading our scars like medals..
I know what it feels like, to crave attention..
But there’s a fine line between lusting after attention, and being a whore.

Prance in fronta your mirror ballerina
Do you hate yourself too?

Are we more alike than we seem?
That’s what really scares me to death.
I see me in you.
In the way you need people to prove to yourself that you’re real.
And the way it’s all about you.
So now it’s all about me too, isn’t it?

Cry
All you’ll get, is pity.
Not love.
Pity.

Keep your ‘expensive’ waistcoats to yourself.
When you’re flailing around in the chaos you created,
You’ll need a straitjacket to hold you in.
No, you’re not anorexic.
You just don’t eat.



(This is a rant. If any of you know who I’m talking about, keep it to yourself. It might even be you. Or me. I needed to kill the bitch in my system.)