Why is pain beautiful,
But happiness is cringe-worthy.
Why do I feel this pain,
But I don\'t feel beautiful.
Cursed to repeat history.
And hurt the ones I love;
Hurt the boy I think I love.
But I think that done with.
He should be done with me,
Else he’s a fool.
Because he was there when I
Was hurling my guts and starting to drool,
Crying in my own pain. self-inflicted pain.
To pissed to spell my own wretched name.
And he was there the morning after.
I saw the look on his face and knew.
When he told me what I had achieved
What he said was easy to believe.
Because it sounds like the sort of shit I would pull,
On the boy, I think I love.