(no subject)
x-posted from my myspace blog.
Written in 10 minutes or less out of sheer boredom.
Might be triggering if or offensive if you've ever been prone to cutting.
Otherwise, enjoy.
Ode To Emo Kids
No one understands me.
Everything is a drag.
I sit here and despair over the love
that I don’t have
while alleviating the pain
with dull-edged razor blades.
I write deep poetry
which you shall never understand
because you are too shallow
to understand how I feel.
I listen to Linkin Park
because I can relate
but they can never relate to me.
They have no idea how hard my life is.
Myspace is my haven.
My profile is filled with the
innermost depths of my soul.
Artistic photographs of myself on display.
My blog is filled with
the real, raw tribulations of my life.
Oh sweet rapture of despair! I have been inspired!
See my latest blog, and wonder at my pain:
11/28/05
Why haven’t my friends called me today?
Oh yes, they claim to be busy, but I know they don’t like me.
I know they spend their days talking about me when I’m not there.
Fuck those liars.
(Note to self: Don’t forget call them tomorrow and see if they want to hang out.)
Why does my girlfriend not love me anymore?
Why doesn’t she try to understand me
instead of running around like a cheating whore?
Yesterday I cut myself
but today I might slit my wrists.
I have no purpose in living life
when everyone treats me like this.
With pain written in such descriptive beauty
it is a wonder I am not a published author.
Then again, no one can possibly understand
the full meaning of my work.
I am far too deep for them.
I am far too deep for society.
I am Emo.
Written in 10 minutes or less out of sheer boredom.
Might be triggering if or offensive if you've ever been prone to cutting.
Otherwise, enjoy.
Ode To Emo Kids
No one understands me.
Everything is a drag.
I sit here and despair over the love
that I don’t have
while alleviating the pain
with dull-edged razor blades.
I write deep poetry
which you shall never understand
because you are too shallow
to understand how I feel.
I listen to Linkin Park
because I can relate
but they can never relate to me.
They have no idea how hard my life is.
Myspace is my haven.
My profile is filled with the
innermost depths of my soul.
Artistic photographs of myself on display.
My blog is filled with
the real, raw tribulations of my life.
Oh sweet rapture of despair! I have been inspired!
See my latest blog, and wonder at my pain:
11/28/05
Why haven’t my friends called me today?
Oh yes, they claim to be busy, but I know they don’t like me.
I know they spend their days talking about me when I’m not there.
Fuck those liars.
(Note to self: Don’t forget call them tomorrow and see if they want to hang out.)
Why does my girlfriend not love me anymore?
Why doesn’t she try to understand me
instead of running around like a cheating whore?
Yesterday I cut myself
but today I might slit my wrists.
I have no purpose in living life
when everyone treats me like this.
With pain written in such descriptive beauty
it is a wonder I am not a published author.
Then again, no one can possibly understand
the full meaning of my work.
I am far too deep for them.
I am far too deep for society.
I am Emo.