lørdag den 26. oktober 2013

I only know what I am not.

I'm an anonymous rumor, more interesting the mind of others that in reality. Made to be something I'm not and getting an inflated ego because of it. 
Continuing headaches, I'm in a state of aching pain and running in panic because I should feel bad. I should feel bad about so many of my actions, and I should be ashamed of my dirty little secrets. 
Dreaming about the boy, the man, the awkward sex god; the man of my dreams. 

Giving away
           My body
                   to something fake because it hurts 
                                     too much to think I'll never find my dreams coming true. 
So fuck me olive boy, my dark passion, give me average sex and average security so I'll forget that I never get what I want. 

Running seems pointless after all, and to be honest, I prefer dancing. 

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