i'm not trying to be poetic or anything, but i feel like it may kinda turn out that way, and i suck at poetry so this'll probably suck as well.. oh well i need to get my thoughts out of my head so i can sleep
The things he doesn't know can fill a book, a BIG book
he doesn't know about my past, he doesn't know about my thoughts, and things i do when he's away
he doesn't know about the monster inside of me, waiting, just waiting for him to mess up
he doesn't know the hate and the rage the moves through my brain
he doesn't know about the paranoia
he doesn't know i have one foot halfway out the door just waiting for this to fall apart
yet he doesn't know how much i will hurt when it does eventually end
he doesn't know about my issues
he doesn't know about my family
he doesn't know about my "friends" who i secretly liked or somewhat still like/really have a thing for...oops...
he doesn't know that sometimes i think i might hate him
he doesn't know about what i say
he doesn't know about the lies to friends
he doesn't know about the lies to myself
but most of all, he doesn't know that i keep all this and more secret just so he doesn't know too much about me...he thinks i want to be mysterious
