All You Sons Of Bitches


I repeat - ALL you sons of bitches.

Go fuck yourselves.

I give, and give, and fucking give. I don't even know how to live for myself anymore, I've been living my life for all you sons of bitches all my life. And all you do is take, and take, and fucking take.

If I am dead inside, I wouldn't feel so. I wouldn't have the fiery pit within me envelop my whole being every time I am stepped upon.

I am angry. I am more than angry. I am murderous. I feel homicidal everytime you sons of bitches crush me under your feet for the sheer pleasure of it. I feel like holding a slugger in my hands and feeling the crack of your skull as I devour the pleasure it gives.

But I don't look so.

In the name of reason and normality I take it. I take it up the ass for you sons of bitches. I tolerate whatever shit you throw my way, simply for the fact that you might deserve another chance.

Might.

Listen up, all you sons of bitches. Listen good. Here's an example of why you shouldn't step on my tail too much.

There is only so much I can take. Not that it pleases me to tolerate. I boil over with anger and hurt every time someone steps on me, but for fucking peace's sake, I take it when you get up in my ass.

No seriously. Not anymore.

I'm not only going to stop being Little Miss Nice, I am going to be downright nasty when you step on my tail.

Don't say you've not been warned.