I Love To Hate You...
Posted: Tue Jun 05, 2007 10:57 am
I love to hate you… I'd love to make you break you.
…but I need to save you.
You torture me; the enforcer, the only driving force in me, you course through me forcibly, keeping me alive.
Remorsefully, I scream with you inside, resourcefully, dreaming you would die.
You're so predictable. Everyone knows you, everyone knows what you're about. But no one knows who you truly are; the monster you really are inside. Inside me.
You're broken off into pieces. Potent, often to ease this onus; awful diseases, soaked in all of the reasons, open to all who would see this.
You're so unpredictable. No one knows you, no one knows what you're about. No one knows who you truly are; the monster you really are inside. Inside me.
You keep me going. Discreetly knowing pieces; growing. Screaming, throwing, breathing; showing.
You rape my consciousness. Great. Hate, obnoxiousness and a blatant obstinate faith convey the positives. Invade the bottomless, raving politics that display the hollow, misstated obvious. Escape is ominously vague; preposterous. The plague that prospers grips pain and fosters it; strains to father it. Don't bother, it's a waste to ponder this circus; its service urges hurt if you ever face the consequence.
…but I need to save you.
You torture me; the enforcer, the only driving force in me, you course through me forcibly, keeping me alive.
Remorsefully, I scream with you inside, resourcefully, dreaming you would die.
You're so predictable. Everyone knows you, everyone knows what you're about. But no one knows who you truly are; the monster you really are inside. Inside me.
You're broken off into pieces. Potent, often to ease this onus; awful diseases, soaked in all of the reasons, open to all who would see this.
You're so unpredictable. No one knows you, no one knows what you're about. No one knows who you truly are; the monster you really are inside. Inside me.
You keep me going. Discreetly knowing pieces; growing. Screaming, throwing, breathing; showing.
You rape my consciousness. Great. Hate, obnoxiousness and a blatant obstinate faith convey the positives. Invade the bottomless, raving politics that display the hollow, misstated obvious. Escape is ominously vague; preposterous. The plague that prospers grips pain and fosters it; strains to father it. Don't bother, it's a waste to ponder this circus; its service urges hurt if you ever face the consequence.