Sta.sh
because math is what makes the world go
'round and, my god, how i want to be the
reason your world keeps turning, even though
words are far more important than math, and i'm
really no good at either.
go ahead, call me yours like
you know what the hell you're
saying.
diaries are just the masochistic rememberings
of those with nothing better to do and you
were the first person who made me wish
i could feel, and hell yeah it's my birthday,
bitch.
no? i'm not important? good.
and yes. yes i will maybe save the world
someday, justdon'tgetyourhopesup and maybe
i secretly came here hoping that you would talk
me out of this f a n t a s y but so far all you've done
is take my breath away, and sooner or later, my ears
are going to turn blue, and fall clean off.
when i told you all i would do is
fall apart, you
called me beautifully cliche,
and said you're not the only one.
you start to die when you stop living and we'll
both cry upon mid-london powerlines and i'll
watch him hold her with his eyes, and just
dare you all to laugh at me, because i am a princess.
i am a fucking princess.
i promise.
kiss me like you mean it, but you
still won't change my mind.
belief is a graveyard, and you really should hold
your head up high, gorgeous, because there are
people who would pay a fortune to see you
crash and burn and you say i haunt you but i say
how can that be, cause you can't stop living when
you never even started.
cue happy ending music and bring
out your last dose of tragedy.
Bitter 
~
