One cut, two cuts, three cuts, four, I wonder if I should make more? Five cuts, six cuts, seven cuts, eight, I knew I wasnt the perfect weight. Nine cuts, ten cuts, eleven cuts, twelve, there is not rhyme to this. Thirteen cuts, fourteen cuts, fifteen cuts, sixteen cuts, you probably didnt think Id get this far? Seventeen cuts, eighteen cuts, nineteen cuts, twenty, at last thats plenty. Because now Im ready to be gone. Ready to be lost, for the cost is far too much. How? Because in return of me being dead, you no longer have a dread. Im finally gone. Breakups hurt, but losing someone who doesnt respect and appreciate you is actually a gain, not a loss.
Posted on: Tue, 11 Mar 2014 06:01:59 +0000
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