I want your hopes and your dreams.
I want to crush them in between my teeth.
I want to smother them in the pillows and dirty sheets.
I want your heart on a platter just for me.

Give up everything.
THE STORIES THE WORDS THE TRAGEDY!!!
Yes, really.
I'm a crazy person, don't you know I'm serious?
YOU THINK YOU ARE A POET!?!?!?

I wanna murder your words with every sentence.
Rhymes worth nickels and dimes, and constant cliches.
You didn't even know it, staring so hard in the mirror,
Trying to convince yourself you're different.

SPECIAL EVEN!
No monster in the closet,
No monster in the closet
you're just sad and pathetic.
Not a looney nutcase like myself.
I cradle those monsters, feed them my breast

Do you breathe words?
Do you see them solid in the the sky as real as a dream?

Can't scream them like I can.
Can't love those words that ooze sloppy stories like I have.
Twist them into bows like I can.
Can't get near to my stance.
You haven't lived those words like I have.

YOU created the plotline, yes
the aching murder weapon I stole
and I stabbed you in the heart with.
Ripped it out slowly, watched your life dissipate
and through your ransacked second stories,
your washed up words
I created the tragedy
CLICHES MADE INTO LEGENDARY LITERATURE!!!
YOU ARE NOT CRAZY ENOUGH TO BE A POET.

that's only the sad truth, baby.