Hurt
I cannot believe my disillusionment.
To think, I thought you cared
at some point between acquaintance and so-called "best friend".
To think I was so blind to see
how poisonous you are.
You think no one can see how disgusting you are on the inside.
I've seen it
don't think I'm that blind now.
You know what you are on the inside,
a self-loathing, shallow, hateful bitch,
turning everything into an argument.
You want so badly to be so "bad ass",
but you're so incredibly feeble.
No one can love someone like you
if they have any clue who you are.
Your incessant, annoying, whining and complaining,
how men…
how boys use you for sex.
How can you expect anything different?
You beg for it.
The clothes you wear,
which you know you shouldn't.
The way you act,
like a desperate slut.
You'll never have anyone with the way you are.
Time after time, fucked and left.
I hope it feels good to you,
I hope you have the sweetest pain of all;
alone and dejected,
the way you deserve to be.
It's almost humorous
the way you can call me a "slut".
You would give yourself to anyone that would take you
and notice, that's not too many.
Go ahead, play your games.
Try to act like you're so deeply wounded,
as if you have depth at all.
You don't know pain.
You are too self-involved
to care about anything enough to bring you pain.
But I have hope.
Hope that one day, when you've given yourself to everyone you can;
one day, when no one wants you;
when you're used up and rotted;
that is when you'll take a step out of yourself.
That is when you'll cry your first true tear.
don't come running for me on that day.
For I loved you.
I've done my caring.
I learned my lesson.
I just hope one day you'll learn yours.
Hurt, you bitch.
Hurt the way you hurt me.
[back.to.lit]