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Miss Hotshit
Love stuck me like anvils fallin on cartoon characters
At sight & meeting i thought of marriage with her
Men strive for what they can’t have, always trying to grasp
what i can’t grab, tired of blaming my dad
Am i really that bad? that unattractive?
Is all this writing simply retroactive?
But the story at hand, is the hormonal rage of a young man,
that’s only temporarily stalled with my right hand.
Met my dreamgirl, everything was going as planned
But everyone’s eventually woken up from dreamland.
Her false romance, had me in emotional quicksand
and she just used me to hold up her ego like a kickstand.
But i tried to advance, tell her how much i loved her,
and through showing my feelings she said i smoothered her
and covered her like a warm comforter
But she was Miss Hotshit, and didn’t need my extra temperature....
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"The wind is the moon's imagination wandering. It seeps through cracks, ripples the grass, explores the unknown. My love is my soul's imagination. How do I love you? Imagine."
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