Optimism is the best way to see life…
I have a pill
It gives me a thrill
Makes me feel happy
Now everyone is getting sappy
I don’t need it, I just love it
They ask me to come in and sit
They want to take it away
They want to take me away
I try to leave, they want me to stay
After they catch me, I wail and weep
Soon I am curled up in a shriveling heap
I finally made it out
I sure shut them up
They won’t try and take it away from me ever again
That’s for sure
Trying to tell me I am out of control
What do they know?
Now they are the ones on the ground
Their blood covers my hands
I throw it back at them like the holy water they used on me
Now I have my pill,
It’s all I need
Nobody can take it away anymore
Losing control? really? Where did that come from?
Acting like I am some kind of psychopath
He walks into the door and smiles as he sees out of the corner of his eye his wife sitting on the couch watching television. “You still mad at me?” startled by her lack of response he calls over again as he is undoing his tie, “Come on it wasn’t that bad and I never said i didn’t like the way we normally do it, i just thought it would be fun to mix it up a little.” Still he gets no response. Not even an acknowledgment that he was home. No movement. Nothing. He walks over to her and from behind the couch whispers into her ear, “that is okay, I still love you” and kisses her cheek. Something was off. He couldn’t figure it out, so he went around the couch on the opposite end, and just as she was doing, didn’t bother to acknowledge she was there. He sat on the other end and was startled to find the couch was wet. He stood up immediately and looked to see a huge wet spot on the back of his dark blue jeans. He let out a large sigh and yelled, “Christ! you couldn’t have warned me that—” he stopped abruptly as he looked up to yell at his wife of twenty years. There she was, remote in hand, face peaceful, and her white blanket covering her, or what was left of her. He immediately rushed over to her and uncovered the blanket to find a heart carved in her abdomen, giving a shelf for a box of chocolates with a note that read “Happy Valentines day mother fucker.” horrified he stumbles backward to find the house phone. As he lay his hand on the end table where the phone was, he is met by a wicked grab. He felt long nails dig into his arm. At this point he himself couldn’t figure out if it was his wife dying or the sharp pain now penetrating his wrist causing the tears now streaming down his face. He manages to take his eyes away from his dead wife to figure out what had grabbed him. from a dark shadow steps out his mistress who had no idea he was married. The last words he evr got to hear were, “Fucking Bastard.” as the blood spouted violently from his caught wrist.
The Death Of Stars
had to reblog because an explosions in the sky song was playing and i was amused…
(Source: britneysunicorn)
the drip drip drip of tears and blood falling silently in the night
why must i lie in a world where people are deaf to the cries of others
plugging ears
hiding tears
covering scars
what will make people listen?
i am not ok
