Sadness.

Yes, I'm not slitting my wrists.

And I'm going to try and reply to comments,
the next time.


Yes, I know I haven't been replying to comments.
Well, I'm going to.

until then, I'm going to leave you with a little piece,
that I like to call.


Being Pathetic.

Whatever artistic merit that you ever derive,
is only an opinion, in which you fervently hope
that sheeps would agree.


Oh woe is me,
why does this life hurt me?

Treats me like trash,
I'm hurt, I am, that's me.

See me smile, work everyday.
I'd even mock you, show
fake concern.

But, woe is me,
the darkness it freely takes.
It rips at the core, it freely shreds.


But yet I smile,
of you I mock.
The sadness there, can't you see?
The sadness, it just freely takes.
--------------------------------------------


What a remarkable waste of time.
Don't you think?

Derive some humour from it lah,
damn fucking easy lah.

And yep, more melodramatic shit is going to
come out of me lah. Damn shit, I have to practice
writing to suck up to grouchy and opinionated old coots,
you know?