I pump out half- assed poetry,
in order to vent,
But the misery you caused me
Is like all the love we spent.
It was nothing but wasted currency
For something so small,
So worthless
There's no use at all.
Because in the end nothing survives,
Love is a temporary thing to make you high
Money spent on a one time thrill,
Like the gun I lock and load
For the final kill.
