I just want somebody to at least act like they actually
give a fuck. And not lie to me all the time. Because really, nobody cares.
I just want someone to show me the least bit of affection, whether it's
only a few minutes or not, I want to feel like someone can acknowledge my presence.
I at least want to feel like someone can possibly love me, besides my family.
To love me for me, for who I am, not what I look like.
The past two years, men have been attracted to me. And it doesn't make a
fucking difference or not if someone wants to ejaculate inside me that I'll feel beautiful or loved.
If you love me, it would feel pretty fucking nice to talk to me every now and then.
Little things like good morning and good night texts would do wonders for a person who feels like she can't measure up to your last no matter how good she looks.
No matter how good I smell and how dope my clothes are, how nice I have my weave and nails on schedule, I'll still feel like I can't measure up.
I don't want any money, or any cookie cutter dates on friday nights that turns into a make out-session.
I don't want your sex, or a ring to symbolise how much I think you care.
A nice conversation will perform wonders. A walk when the weather is nice is pleasure in itself.
Seems like everyone else has a love just for them, and they don't deserve it.
The people who cheat, lie , steal, are fucking selfish thinking that the bad committed in life will go unpunished seem to always have.
And the people like me, I pay my dues. I donate money to the church when I have to give. I'm quick to help others in need, to give a word of advice or prayer. And I still get treated like shit. When your'e nice people just take advantage of you. But when you don't give a damn about nothing and you have a vagina, your'e a rotten frigid bitch with no heart and no soul. The nice ALWAYS finish last.
And the one thing I so desire to possess, I don't have.
No one fucking appreciates me.
HighRise.
Contrary to popular belief:
I'm complicated.
What it is one time PAC DIV.
My mind is a blood red brick house on Stone street
with thousands of rooms; blue mirrors,
the auroma of marajuana and music.
Cacoethes Scribendi. Get it tattooed on my wrist.
New Orleans native. My accent proves it all.
I am finally beggining to accept the fact that I am meant to be alone.
I am forever in the cycle of change.
I tend to treat serious situations like how I treat strangers.
I'm a starving writer and a dying phtographer.
No one will ever comprehend or understand.
When I die I want Bob Marley playing at my gravesite.
I am the rose that grew from concrete.
What it is one time PAC DIV.
My mind is a blood red brick house on Stone street
with thousands of rooms; blue mirrors,
the auroma of marajuana and music.
Cacoethes Scribendi. Get it tattooed on my wrist.
New Orleans native. My accent proves it all.
I am finally beggining to accept the fact that I am meant to be alone.
I am forever in the cycle of change.
I tend to treat serious situations like how I treat strangers.
I'm a starving writer and a dying phtographer.
No one will ever comprehend or understand.
When I die I want Bob Marley playing at my gravesite.
I am the rose that grew from concrete.