There is no one for me. No man nor woman or even in between. No one to understand my fragile state, my twisted words that await. I've tried to love many, and failed time and time again. The one for me is gone, like a speck of dirt on a clean Sunday morning .
I've been fooled twice for my dreadful mistakes, they were simply low life's not worthy of me. I open up and they crush it like walnuts clenched between their teeth.
I may seem rude and snarky but I mean well. My appearance may frighten those of faint hearts, but intrigue those of the midnights.
I cannot count all who've wronged me for that list shall never end. Therefore my blades must be sharpened and cleaned each night to perfect completion.
There's no one like I, is what many would say, but there's others out there, just as broke as me. With no one to love truly. They take the measures and think irrational, sending them to awful dark cells. The only difference with I is I don't get caught.
