"Anger is the place in which I dwell;
it seems to be
the place for me;
it seems to suit me well."
I don't mean to be a witch,
but I can't help to be a b#tch;
I just want what I can't have.
You'll never know
the lengths I go
to try and impress you.
You have no idea the things I do,
and the work that I go through.
Every day I bend over in some direction,
to try and find just bit of your affection.
I'm doing right angles, but I think you're obtuse,
so it's no use.
Some times I want to give up on this,
but I remember the things I'd miss,
the few things that bring me bliss.
So I'll never give up on this.
I'm frustrated with myself
for not having the stealth
to keep up with you,
and everything that you do.
For feeling so miserable about this,
when I know I don't deserve it;
when all I do is everything
and all you notice is nothing.
I've been crying in the corner all night
trying to get over my stage fright,
so maybe I can do better for you;
to get your attention.
I want to be the best of the best,
so I can have the best.
My nerves have put me to the test,
and I don't think I will pass.
