You’re stuck in my head and instead, I just wish you were dead. My elation is glazed, and in retaliation I preach these words of my detestation. My essence is breatheless, and I’m arrested in perception, the requisite of this oppression. You had some guile and all the while it seemed for real, but in fact its undeniable. You have me stumbling around on the ground, acting like a fool or a kid who drowned in the pool. You said I had compassion, benevolence, sympathy, so why all this severity and tyranny?