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Paranoia


Tekka
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This will probably never be solved. 

I know I will regret saying this.

I am your puppet, subject to your whim.

You want to twist me and tear me for your enjoyment and use.

I am but a tool to you.

You say you care, but all you mean is to keep me for your selfish desires and entertainment.

You love me, but sickeningly; you twist its definition, bastardize it and make it mean nothing.

No one cares, no one will.

I am just an angsty teen, I'll get over it, I'm seeking attention, I'm using you.

So hold me to your morals, what little you believe in, what vile, narrowminded "good" you think is true and dear.

Violate my few morals. Shove pills down my throat, shock me till I'm dumb.

Then, when I forget who I am, when nothing is left of me, you can smile over the shell you left, the human of normalcy and motivelessness, a true puppet.

If you really loved me, cared for me, you'd let go of your morals, and let me go.

I'll say I care about you, I'll smile and play my part.

In the end, you'll be my puppet, like everyone else.

I am the master of puppets, the one who fears being used, tortured, and forgotten.

The one who lies in the shadows, crying, doing anything to cause you pain.

The one who is numb, and will always be.

No pain, no pleasure.

Dust in the eternal wind.

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