Author: Wainwright PM
I am misunderstood you see. No-one understands me or my great talent or my potential and/or genius. I'm going now to whimper and hide in a darkened room. Alone. (just in case it's not blind obvious, this is parody. It's not meant to be good or make sense)Rated: Fiction T - English - Parody - Chapters: 3 - Words: 378 - Reviews: 7 - Updated: 05-17-05 - Published: 05-16-05 - id: 1914561
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Now you all see how deep I am, it's time for you to see how tormented I am. So I present to you the black, cancerous rot that is my soul. It's more tragic than the great puppy massacre of '85. Worse than losing your favourite black nail varnish or being told by your mummy (she doesn't understand) you're not allowed to paint you room black in an outward expression of your deep, dark depth.
Oh the deep dark depths of deep dark darkness
My soul is empty
As empty as the love you promised
I gave you my love
You broke it like a mirror
The mirror of dreams
Or maybe a black rose
In the rain
The rain of my torment
You do not understand my darkness
My empty soul had grown wings
But it's still dark
My love is a mole
Wiggling in the coal mine of passion
But where are the candles?
Like my heart.