__________by Tasha C. Miller
Depression is my bitch.
She's my mistress
She always reminds me
How fucked up I am
What I don't do anymore
And why I don't do it
And who I'd rather be doing it to.
My bitch keeps telling me
You don't bring me roses no more
You don't make love to me no more
Pull me off the bed and fuck me on the floor.
You don't love me no more.
You don't take me no where, no more.
You don't kiss me,
hug me,
touch,
talk to me,
listen to me,
call me,
email me,
write me,
think of me no more.
You don't never
You don't ever
How come you don't
How come you won't
I don't cause bitch you depress me
I won't cause bitch you depress me.
Damn.
