| Symphony It repeats, every time. I am stuck between the bars that say what goes on and on. I know what comes next, and it will be sweet, nervous, sweaty, shaky, but cold. Then comes the bliss that only arrives for a short visit before I am left again with walls covered in spikes. They creep in closer, stabbing my skin, stabbing my wounds, stabbing my blood as it drips. But perhaps I forget some, perhaps there are more parts in between-- more parts for me to play again. My fingers hurt, the song is too fast, it makes me cry tears onto the strings, and I can't play much longer. I'd ask for a substitute, but I want no one else having to undergo this, this symphony of agony. Oh, here comes the chorus chanting the message, the general theme-- repeat, die, repeat. She is irrational, she is a dream-filled brat, she brings all down, and then takes their thoughts. She knows how to make you hate her. She knows how to make you slaughter her. She will do it, do it, do it, do it, do it until she wants to, until she has to, until she tries to stop the nonsense that continues on and she knows she cannot. She is stuck inside her own trap, thinking boys lie, I cry, that's the end of me, that's the end of that. No one talking to her can tell her otherwise. She sees they will all slice her, she sees they all have cut her. They love to see her blood fall down, they shower in its innocence, they dance to its sound. |
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