sco when you have time, if it's the last thing I do. Forging his revenge on that trust regaláis everywhere, not knowing if one day you can reach exhaustion. I snatched it from a blow, you rub off the misery brought by yourself for so long, and will grow between your ribs, feeding your soul like a malignant tumor, to devour your heart in the ecstasy of his relentless metastasis. And finally die brandishing a smile of toothless gums. He is free, and you portaréis their chains.
I hate, I hate everyone, hate, hate, hate ... I hate you because every one of your silly questions is like a punch in the stomach, for your eyes sink my eyes in their sockets until agrilled, and can only see the black unfathomable disappointment, anger coagulated red. Tejéis with lies and false smiles concealed the web that gets me, the frustration that I choked. I need true, but only want to offer masks. And I can not give me nothing but lies.
I hate you because you never become like you. I hate you because you will never be like me. Special
, you say. Is too vague a word, prostituted most of the time. A euphemism to give you a nice name for a drag. And if this is my gift, if that makes me special or different, or just rare, it is a curse rather than a salvation, if it makes me soil stains and rot, and hatred, and anger, to turn the brilompañero that can support (me).
It's so frustrating not to put a name to this fucking shit ... Spitting craving for revenge for not knowing where to spit, scratch back to the border of absurdity and doubt like so many other times. Those tracks trembling had chalked left with the rain, and now only scattered screaming into a wall of fog or concrete. The rain always comes.
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