Ugh

[Evangelion]

Another Notch

As I stare into the depths of space,

Looking back at where I've been,

Knowing that it's all for naught,

My world has begun to spin.

Out of control, out of time,

It's hard to even make it rhyme,

Another crack, another break,

Another notch for my hand to make,

In the walls of my broken heart.

Looking off into the distance,

I realize I cannot see,

Hearing static, lost connection,

It's like I've merely ceased to be.

Breaking away, the raging madness,

Here to stay, the tearing sadness,

Another crack, another break,

Another notch for my hand to make,

In the walls of my broken heart.

Falling away,

I'm falling away,

Somebody catch me,

Before it's too late.

Another crack, another break,

Another notch for my hand to make,

In the walls of my broken heart.

[/emo]

[Imoutgoodbye]

*hug*

Not much. But it's something. And things get better. Sorry I can't really say anything that'll help.

EDIT: Here's an old poem of mine, might cheer you up at least a bit.....from my days of "I hate women"

Beautiful Assassin

The Keep’s Tower stands so high.

Impregnable? Well, that could be a lie.

The Dragon soars farther up the sky.

She attacks from there, unseen to the normal eye.

The War Wizard could have seen her.

But he was busy with the prostitute, Blur.

Later, he would try to flee as a creature of fur.

Alas, he was caught, and if you catch my drift, never again a “Sir”.

She landed in the form of a lady most fair.

Her first victim was the Knight, Sir Care.

First came the fireball that singed all his hair.

Then she ripped open his chest and laid his heart bare.

Down the stairs she went and found Sir Mercy.

She flirted most voraciously, but accidentally called him Percy.

He didn’t mind, didn’t reprimand at all tersely.

Feeling generous, she kept a prize, and now he sounds girly.

In the dining hall was Sir Justice, in quite a funk.

He’d sat there for a few days and really stunk.

Gently leading him to the barrel of ale, she gave him a dunk.

He died in that barrel, but he died a happy drunk.

On to the bedroom, to naked Sir Lust.

He made the mistake of commenting on her large bust.

She was nothing more than flying colors, a windy gust.

Now all that’s left of this Knight is a pile of dust.

*match stanzas to morals*

The moral of this poem?

1. Don’t underestimate the b*tch.

2. Don’t cheat on the b*tch.

3. Don’t care too much for the b*tch.

4. Don’t go easy on the b*tch.

5. Don’t ask the b*tch to fetch your beer.

6. Don’t mistake the b*tch for the sl*t.

[Evangelion]

Thanks for the support.

My parents can be really frustrating sometimes.