Some turn pure evil
Filled with hate
And Machiavellian plans
Just to hurt you
Some do it with a grin
On their crooked face
But you have to tread on me
Long enough
You have to walk over me
Over and over again
Then I turn indigo and introvert
Get a hold on my pen
And write down my pains
Onto paper white
In blood red symbols
This helps me to deal
With sorrows, loss and grief
I never hold you to anything
Not a hating felling within
I just throw the trash out
Into the bin of oblivion
From where there is no return
