There have always been stories, that daughters are told, about men with bad intentions, and words of gold. But you never listened. My storms been building since the day you were born. I wonder what hurts more? Knowing that you failed, or knowing that you never tried to get to know me. I am no Saint!

You were always second best at lying, hiding behind your imperfections. All you know is what I give you, nothing more. You've been hiding behind this for far too long now. You lost yourself, you fake! I am no saint, just a sinner, willing to admit his sins.


How do you $#&@ing like me now? The truth is, sometimes I make myself sick. I don't know how to love anyone except myself. The truth is you've always made me sick, you're never satisfied, and don't even love yourself. How can you love anyone else, if you don't even love yourself? Why do I have this constant urge to ruin other peoples happiness? Is it jealousy or lack of confidence?


You were always second best at lying, hiding behind your imperfections. All you know is what I give you, nothing more. You've been hiding behind this for far too long now. You lost yourself, you fake! I am no saint, just a sinner, willing to admit his sins.

I wonder what hurts more? Knowing that you failed, or knowing that you never tried to get to know me. I am no Saint!