I see no point in being good. Fuck it. People hurt others and never say sorry. They blame me for being “wrong,” while hiding behind “God” or other people. They make promises, get offended that I don’t trust them, and then they just walk away instead of trying to fix things. They demand lightness, yet they live their lives with someone else and I’m left to suffer, to cry for days and lose sleep. What am I to them in the end? A useless piece that can be tossed aside. The toy lost its charm the moment it started being taken seriously. I patched up your family. Have fun with the happiness you built on my suffering and bleeding heart. Go on, hurt me even more! Drag me through the mud, tell me what’s still wrong with me and what I ‘should be’ like for the future. Come on — I’m waiting for more pain. I wish I could see your faces; I’ll spite you by walking past your house more often and staring into your eyes. Believe in God, in the Devil — it makes no difference to me. Believe in Krishna, if that comforts you. But never forget whose sorrow you used to build your joy on… You will never forget it. I promise… Ahhh God… Why does my strength only live in words when I’m falling apart? How I ache to slap you, to drive my fists into your chest — to do anything, anything to show you how much it hurts. But I’m a coward; I can’t bring myself to hurt you. In reality I’m just a joke, a fool swallowed by my own pain. Have fun.. I am just a clown