You’re worthless, yet you mean so much to me.
You’re beautiful, though you seem so pitiful.
I hate your thought process, in which you haven’t discovered anything real.
You have wings, but you wouldn’t leave the ground.
You have a heart, though you refuse to breathe.
I hate you when you’re miserable, but I love you when you’re wrong. Your life is nothing more than a Broadway show, in which you’re the stage, and life is the play.
Oh, but you’re so perfect, it hurts.
You only recognize the innocence in life, and refuse to see the truth.
Pain is nothing compared to what you’ll eventually feel.
You’re corrupted, tainted, and jaded.
And yet… you think you’re perfect.
I’d burn a million bridges, just so you wouldn’t find me anymore… but the one bridge I can’t seem to burn, seems to be the only one I’d cross.
