I hope you look at everything I write
And laugh
It is my greatest desire to entertain you
And your whims
Just as everyone else exists to serve
If you wanted to play Machiavellian
You should have told me from the start
Nobody does deception the way I do
When I delude myself into thinking I ever loved
Anything but my own selfish desires
Sometimes the best way in is with a loving smile
Poor thing.
Doomed to loving pitiful imitations of the people you lost
Broken people who serve no good use
You, the hapless victim
I'm sure you like it that way
If we really are so similar, I know
There's nothing like a broken glass
To make you feel better about the water you can still hold
Until it seeps out the cracks
Hastily glued together
Deny purpose in art
But seek it out so reverently
Pretty colours, pretty words, soft women
These will not fix you
The same way I cannot
