You are the Drag, baby. I am the Queer.

Why this has to hurt, when I see her name somewhere?.

A picture or something else?.

Why I keep torturing myself over and over again?.

Why I can't let go, but keep an eye on her doings...

I feel so awful, like a gas in acid.

Escaping is the easiest way out, when something gets to overwhelming.

I am such a bitch, acting for my own good.

Yet, this is a damn about a time, since all I have done in the past years of my stupid life, is living for others.

Never get anything to myself, just cause I think that this suits, but go after thoughts of other.

And now they wander, why I am silent, bitter and cold, and so mean, when I speak up my mind. 

This is called truth, and truth makes me the enemy, the bitch. Oh well, let it make, but I refuse to play those games that you all have played with me so far.

I am not another follower, I am a feline, who walks by herself.

A rebel, an anarchist, a revolutionary.

*

The Truth:

“I'd rather be hated for who I am, than loved for who I am not.” - K.D.Cobain