my more regular critic (albeit, she'd probably never say anything bad about anything I wrote...) thought it was good, figured I'd share it with you lot


to her

yo, all you're telling me is what you think i want to hear,
could you not be more clear, and answer more sincere,
I'm tired of this, always feeling youre in fear
living life thats unhealthy
You had to lie everytime you ever tried to get closer
and I see that as unfair, as i saw your heart was teared
I wasn't there, you must have thought I mustn't care,
Well I did, I do, still got much love for you
To the point I can't explain... refrain from that thought
I just want you to stop pretending you are what youre not

to them

Yo, she's telling me only what she thinks i want to hear,
regardless of when I asked her, to always be sincere,
why should she fear an answer?
why must my love reach out like cancer?
endangering everyone, and everything in reach
I'm a walking, talking pathogen, some kinda disease
you know the type, the one not talked about
unstable dopamine, just like turrets
only no screams no shouts no unfortunate regrets
Indeed, i concede to my faith

she speaks

hey, im afraid of the plot i made with him
I cant let him see, the pain i hold within
my soul, his only goal to put a smile back on my face
and still i turn away, steadily I increace my pace
I dont know why i do this either
I dont see where the pain is coming from
please God please, next time i see him could i not freeze?
whats wrong with me, i love him
must be a walking, talking pathogen, some kinda disease