Sorry it's been a while since I've written. I've been busy, things on my mind.. the list goes on. Here's something...
Lucy is Still Lucifer
The hair on the back of my neck raises
Every time I have to look at you.
Think about you.
I don't think you understand- it's not a good thing.
My heart races just thinking about you now,
Thinking about how I'll never get you out of my head.
And I don't even love you.
There are few people I don't like in this world,
Fewer I would claim to hate.
But you. You. So much hate festers
You attention seeking whore.
Slut, harlot, she-devil, good for nothing, makes me sick to my stomach-
thinking about you with him.
You and your airbrushed hair,face, nails;
You and your fake, misleading,under-mature, overrated, under-dressed, ill-advised, selfish bovine.
You and your wretched, miserable, serpent-like personality and face.
He may not see it; never will.
I always will.
I am not blinded by the classic societal wench
I am not blinded by the cutesy attitude thrown along with naked bodies
As if they've not wronged.
As if the temptation of men and the cheating of their women's hearts was not done.
As it was.
But you- you can not be released from this life you've clung on to-
The life you turned away because of your own selfish desires and
once it was gone
you wanted it. Typical I say.
Typical of you and those around before you who set the standard.
Your typical age, gender, hormonal drive, and need to captivate the most difficult of attentions.
I wish it were difficult for you.
I might then say he loved me more than he does you.
Lucy is Still Lucifer
The hair on the back of my neck raises
Every time I have to look at you.
Think about you.
I don't think you understand- it's not a good thing.
My heart races just thinking about you now,
Thinking about how I'll never get you out of my head.
And I don't even love you.
There are few people I don't like in this world,
Fewer I would claim to hate.
But you. You. So much hate festers
You attention seeking whore.
Slut, harlot, she-devil, good for nothing, makes me sick to my stomach-
thinking about you with him.
You and your airbrushed hair,face, nails;
You and your fake, misleading,under-mature, overrated, under-dressed, ill-advised, selfish bovine.
You and your wretched, miserable, serpent-like personality and face.
He may not see it; never will.
I always will.
I am not blinded by the classic societal wench
I am not blinded by the cutesy attitude thrown along with naked bodies
As if they've not wronged.
As if the temptation of men and the cheating of their women's hearts was not done.
As it was.
But you- you can not be released from this life you've clung on to-
The life you turned away because of your own selfish desires and
once it was gone
you wanted it. Typical I say.
Typical of you and those around before you who set the standard.
Your typical age, gender, hormonal drive, and need to captivate the most difficult of attentions.
I wish it were difficult for you.
I might then say he loved me more than he does you.