On the outside, I'm cool
but the inside is a cold rage, a burning desire, a frustrated man. Turmoil, anger, and insanity torment my soul, my very being.
Not all the time. Sometimes I am cool. Sometimes I am the coolest mutha that stalked the Great lands of Britain. But only sometimes.
The rest of the time a smile, or a look, hides my true temperament. Someone once called it the 'Fuck You' stare. Though a survey tells me she's the only one. I never even realised it. But she's an odd one. Yet another girl who blows hot and cold. But it's not her that boils my innards. She's been taken off my msn. I can't understand what she wants, and what she wants changes every other hour it seems, and I appear to live in another time zone.
Another girl I liked has been sent to prison, she made a mistake, a silly one, and a victimless crime, but the powers that be have sent her away, not for long, but it's extreme. Far too extreme, it makes me sick that scum get away with what they do, but an honest mistake will get you locked away. It's wrong, it really is.
It's not her that riles my skewed sense of reality.
It's been months now, I think it has anyway. I'm in my 2nd month of living here, and due to the excessive amounts of alcohol I consumed during the discovery of the affair, the admission, the discovery of the further lies, the final blow, means I'm not exactly sure how long I was crashing on a sofa before I moved here. I'm thinking months tho.
The letter that was promised has not materialised. I didn't think it would do. The youngsters have not had goodbyes. That breaks my heart again when the thought crosses my mind, which can be daily. The lies and the deceit still haunt me. At night I've often had the recurring dream of waking up back there, on the day it started, and no matter what I try to say or tell, it doesn't change anything, and still that night, she goes to the hotel, and still that night she's seduced by a fucking anyway, I wake up, upset, and know I'm back in my bed, once our bed, and I'm alone, and not living there any more, but living here.
The fucking nasty trick she did on my birthday, the text, still hurts. It all hurts. I cannot see why she treat me so bad. What did I do? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE IT?
Shouting has never really solved anything for me. Except for that one time in Crete. When I shout people listen, because I rarely, and I do mean hardly ever, shout. I don't even like to raise my voice just to be heard in a crowd. People do listen when I shout, but in the end, no one pays heed to my warnings. Though I've discovered keeping calm and reasonable never works either. Does it?
Fucking hell, I miss them all so much it really hurts.
but the inside is a cold rage, a burning desire, a frustrated man. Turmoil, anger, and insanity torment my soul, my very being.
Not all the time. Sometimes I am cool. Sometimes I am the coolest mutha that stalked the Great lands of Britain. But only sometimes.
The rest of the time a smile, or a look, hides my true temperament. Someone once called it the 'Fuck You' stare. Though a survey tells me she's the only one. I never even realised it. But she's an odd one. Yet another girl who blows hot and cold. But it's not her that boils my innards. She's been taken off my msn. I can't understand what she wants, and what she wants changes every other hour it seems, and I appear to live in another time zone.
Another girl I liked has been sent to prison, she made a mistake, a silly one, and a victimless crime, but the powers that be have sent her away, not for long, but it's extreme. Far too extreme, it makes me sick that scum get away with what they do, but an honest mistake will get you locked away. It's wrong, it really is.
It's not her that riles my skewed sense of reality.
It's been months now, I think it has anyway. I'm in my 2nd month of living here, and due to the excessive amounts of alcohol I consumed during the discovery of the affair, the admission, the discovery of the further lies, the final blow, means I'm not exactly sure how long I was crashing on a sofa before I moved here. I'm thinking months tho.
The letter that was promised has not materialised. I didn't think it would do. The youngsters have not had goodbyes. That breaks my heart again when the thought crosses my mind, which can be daily. The lies and the deceit still haunt me. At night I've often had the recurring dream of waking up back there, on the day it started, and no matter what I try to say or tell, it doesn't change anything, and still that night, she goes to the hotel, and still that night she's seduced by a fucking anyway, I wake up, upset, and know I'm back in my bed, once our bed, and I'm alone, and not living there any more, but living here.
The fucking nasty trick she did on my birthday, the text, still hurts. It all hurts. I cannot see why she treat me so bad. What did I do? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE IT?
Shouting has never really solved anything for me. Except for that one time in Crete. When I shout people listen, because I rarely, and I do mean hardly ever, shout. I don't even like to raise my voice just to be heard in a crowd. People do listen when I shout, but in the end, no one pays heed to my warnings. Though I've discovered keeping calm and reasonable never works either. Does it?
Fucking hell, I miss them all so much it really hurts.
I just hope that things get better for you