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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Dark · #1802053
Something I often forget is the purpose of life
Don't move,
you've already been told,
you know your soul's already sold.

Don't move,
there's no atonement here,
I thought I already made that clear.

Don't think,
you'll only scare the rest
a brain that's off's the way that's best.

Don't think,
we've told you the answer,
make your own you'll go under.

Don't live,
we've done it all for you,
and we already said you're through.

Don't live,
there's nothing here but pain,
a happy place you won't regain.

Don't die,
we want to hurt you more,
we'll never even up the score.

Don't die,
we want to watch you crack,
we'll pass our pain into your back.

Don't hope,
we stole that all from you,
why won't you realise that's true?

Don't hope,
all you can do is lose,
the path was never yours to choose.

Don't ever think of blaming us,
the fault is yours, though you may cuss.

So down you get, lay on the floor,
and we will stamp on you some more.

Don't waste your time trying to implore
You're just a screen, you've died before.

It is your fault, it always was.
You will never change because,
we need some poor sod to blame,
and happily you seem quite game.

Yeah, that's right, you can crush soul.
To leave this world's my only goal.

Not that I don't like the place,
but most folks just despise my face.

So stuff it, if you're out to get me,
just make it quick, it's hurting, see.

I know that I could speed it up,
but I'm not cracking my family's cup.

An accident, a little trip,
then gaily you can onwards skip.
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