I throw sad lines at you
Hoping you'll be impressed
While others throw their cheaply perfumed selves at me
Hoping to find me undressed
It's always the same, always old
No one tries anything new

Come Saturday I'll find a new way
Something to bust out of the old cliches
Because for some reason, without me noticing
None of these poems really seem to live

I don't fight fair, because I don't care
And nothing means everything like winning does
An angry mood fits a life led in the dark
I'll trap and execute these feelings, in dark, secret places
Where no one will hear them scream