I don't hate you. I just want to slice your head open, very delicately. Mop away the blood with a perfumed tissue, pretty pink in color. I want to inspect your brain with a blade, stolen from a pencil sharpener. I want to dissect each grey curve, and see where you hid your brain cells. They must lie in a dusty recess of your skull, untouched, unused.
Oh drama queen, grow up before I sharpen my knives.
Oh drama queen, grow up before I sharpen my knives.
9 comments:
Heh, so much for a more cheerful post!
o_0
wow! Short and meaningful <3
Why oh why did this post make me hungry?
this really got my imagination running! ^_^
sharpen your knives because her growing up act would be a new drama .
Though I didn't grasp your meaning but still quite an imagination.
her name and address and ill be glad to help
Whoa! Gory details :o but nicely done, nonetheless.
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