never thought

I’m contemplating pain over love, my love for you,
And I’m contemplating suicide over my hate for me,
Because I’m nothing natural, and nothing new,
Because I’m everything everyone doesn’t want me to be.
I’m the ignoramus, the unimportant one, sir stupid,
Knighted by the thoughts that drive me to the brink of hell,
I’ve been hit by an arrow belonging to cupid,
Shot by the reaper, so I never feel well.
Black flowers, grey sun, blood red grass,
Lying in the grass, in hand a bloody knife,
My imaginings cruel and crass,
Welcome to the summer of my life.

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