I am sick
I am a sick and demented soul who finds pleasure
and a sense of importance
in breaking hearts
Nothing flatters me more than the dull thud of the male ego crushed
by mere words of mine
The happiest smile I smile
when a pair of longing, jealous eyes are watching me
Does this make me evil?
Does it make me evil to not let anyone put my heart under their microscope?
to strive for detachment from everything that might cause me sorrow in the future?
I don't believe so.
I am just sick.
No silly boy can get me out of this state
No weak-hearted, easily-swept-off-their-feet lad can cure me
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