You Whore.

If you could have everything you wouldn’t take from the poor
But instead you wait in front of the liquor store, waiting to fuck the next whore
I’m watching you waste your life, and watching the stray lick your unwanted sore.

In this room, I seem to be addicted to your phone calls
And words that don’t make sense, but I just glue them on my walls.
I ignore the wasps and roaches crawling through the holes
I don’t want to step on them and scrape their dead souls
Off my shoe.

I want to thank your negative energy
For coming up on me like a parasite,
I feel so useless when you use me and abuse my dignity.

How does it feel to be left out?
You’re stuck, you’re ruined.

You dance around the boys, but
I’m getting used to it.
I watch you trade in a disease for sympathy, but
I’m getting used to it.

Where is your common sense?