PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

the game

Tuesday, Nov. 12, 2002

The Game

Iíll read your words and
Respond with lies
Tell you how great you are
Fill you head with helium highs
Then you can list me
And I will think you're my friend
Surely you are telling me the truth
When your opinion is also pretend
Iíll gush about perfection
Then when I list your name
You can blush at my adoration
And return the favor in same
My profile will burst wide open
With names far and wide
Iíll pretend I am important
Even though Iím the same inside
Lets play the game
Called diaryland
You might not like what I say
You might not understand
But I donít like cheaters and infidelity sucks
I am not perfect
Some of the things I have done are fucked
But if you sleep with a married man
Iím going to tell you youíre wrong
As nicely as I can
You can tell me my faults
Iíll take them in stride
But fuck this pretend game
Iím here to find myself
Not to learn how to smile and hide

If Iíve ever said something nice to you about your diary, I meant it. If I tell you what I think it is the truth, not fluff for the sake of this fucked up game I see everyone playing. Oh youíre so kewl..youíre so fineÖyou fuck married men, oh but Önevermind.

everything's so blurry, and everyone's so fake..
so make up your own ending and lemme know just how u feel..
-Puddle of Mudd
12:22 p.m. ::
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