Tired

i am TIRED of writing all these sweet, sappy, lovesick poems all these exultations in my tear-stained, lonely, cry-for-me-please days these fall-on-my-knees days when everything is a "different shade of gray". i can't BEAR anymore of my whining complaints of this "life barely worth living" of these people who aren't giving me nearly enough affection. i will throw down my pen i will rip up these pages but, please, god, don't let me write down one more metaphorical, symbolical pathetic-ass verse about the over-played and under-stated "bane of my existence". if i go on one more rant about some guy who wronged me in some terrible way and can i get a little sympathy and oh dear, look, my feelings run so deep or how i can't solve the myriad of my own problems but here, let me offer you some hypocritical bull to soothe your fears, i will SCREAM! Because writing sappy, lovesick poems doesn't get me any closer to getting laid all those whining complaints only drive more people away metaphors and symbols are never interpreted the same and "ranting" skips alongside "raving" on the road of "mad" to a sterile, white cell. i'll put down all my words, you see, because i am TIRED of writing about me.