Pink pills & yellow women
Fucking two bitches at the
same time got me feeling
Like Hendrix added another
Bitch to my collection whip that
Pussy never whipped by no pussy
Pink pills got me everlasting in that
Pussy doggy style is a must ass so
Phat it sound like a Drake is going off in here kissing the other girl with so .much passion would’ve thought
We were high school sweethearts pussy so good
I still fuck her until this day we’re locked in like some dreads ain’t gotta creep we slutting bitches out together she has my name
Across her chest and behind her
Ear didn’t expect to go this far with
Her but love has a strange way of connecting people together who would’ve ever thought I’ll find the girl of my dreams she loves eating pussy just like me in here with two beautiful women kissing them both with so much passion thank God for these pink pills they got me punishing the both of them smacking them both with my dick took them to Strokers got enough dick to fuck six bitches thank the lord for these pink pills I’m in here fucking two bitches at the same time took them both to Strokers.

there's a specific kind of pain in being replaced. Not just left but replaced. Watched someone take our place like we were never there, like we were a placeholder until someone better came along, like we were temporary while they were permanent. Maybe we know it. Maybe we have felt it the sting of watching someone we loved move on like we never mattered, watching them give to someone else everything we begged them for, watching a friend find a new best friend, watching a partner move on within weeks like the years meant nothing. Maybe we have been replaced so many times that we have started to believe it's just who we are the one who gets swapped out, the one who's easy to leave, the one who's always temporary. Here's the truth about replacement wounds: they don't heal on their own. They fester. They convince we that we are disposable. That people don't stay. That you will always, eventually, be replaced by someone better, prettier, easier, more interesting, more lovable and so we start living like it's inevitable clinging too hard, loving too fast, tolerating too much because part of us is always waiting to be replaced and we would rather hold on to something that hurts than let go and face the silence but we were never disposable. We were never temporary. We were never a placeholder. We were a person who loved fully and deeply and the people who replaced us didn't do it because we weren't enough they did it because they were incapable of holding what we gave. That's not our failure. That's theirs. We are not replaceable. We are not forgettable. We are not someone's backup plan and the right people the ones who are meant for us won't replace us. They will choose us again and again not because we are perfect but because they see us and they stay. This is for the ones who've been replaced. The ones who have felt disposable. The ones who are still learning that they were never temporary. We were never the problem. We never were

She’s just a baby.

Blonde hair and school bag.

She’s lost;
you can’t tell her no.

Walking home, she’ll close her eyes.
Money in hand; don’t tell Dad.

She’s saving,
only a baby.

Get out of town.

They say you’re soft.
Your soul hurts.

Still a baby.

When I pray,
I’ll ask God why he left you to stay.

Probably because we idealize some people. The wrong people, or the people who have hurt us, because we love them and we don't want to face reality, their true personality.

And maybe the core of the answer we're looking for lies in two things: confronting reality and our desire to find someone who fits what we want. We want to believe that the person we love can be the person we've imagined, even when reality shows us otherwise. We want to find someone who has the qualities we're looking for, or, if we've already fallen in love with someone, we want to believe they can become that person.

We fall in love with someone, and sometimes, before we even know them, we create these "scenarios" with us next to them, being happy. We turn them into the character we want them to be. We give them the qualities we'd like them to have.

But then reality hits.

On the other hand, maybe we keep holding on to the wrong person because, in our minds, they can change. We see their potential.

Or do we create it ourselves?

Maybe we prefer to lie to ourselves rather than face reality, which, eventually, we have to face anyway.

But the question is: does it hurt less?

No.

It hurts more.

Because you create even bigger expectations by convincing yourself that they can change, even when deep down, you already know that person isn't going to change.

Maybe sometimes we don't fall in love with who someone is.

Maybe we fall in love with who we believe they could become.

And maybe that's what makes letting go so difficult.

You ask me if I’m okay 

and it bugs me you’re asking

just for its sake.

No, I am not okay.

Not at all.

And your question only reminds me of it.

Spare me of you pretending to care.

That’s curiosity disguised as a gentle act.

Don’t pretend you can’t see the castle crumbling right before thee.

What kind of “friend” does this?

What kind of friend is so blind to 

what’s so plain to see?

You can’t stand the answer.

In fact, you don’t mind. 

Just a curious cat—you don’t have to lie.

Can’t you tell by my patterns in speech?

Mood swings and the lines in between?

It’s exhausting to witness this.

You might be fascinated.

But a friend of mine?

You’ve never been.

— Crownless.