Heavily built tension fills the air
In a snag where things appear so rare
For it begets strong combination
Of uneasiness and frustration
She thinks boys in a circle are hers
I think it's time to mutter the curse
About this oh-so-called-friend of mine
That I've been eyeing for a long time
Let my nails tear your chest—snack your skin
Lick your wounds 'cause that's how I win
Punish you from the horror you've done
And wish that you would fully be gone
Blame your evils to this rivalry
That cause you to cry in agony
So put your whoremones off of my boy
Or else death will take you with pure joy
-A ❣
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Strings of Nostalgia
الشعرsentimentalizing about being wrapped up in the painful yet beautiful reality of the past
