You begged me to hit your pretty face. To shatter your future because you were tired of people betting on how far you'd go. You were so so tired and didn't want anyone to have hope for you ever again. You wanted to be like the rest, so you begged and pleaded for me to split open your amazing grace face. You didn't want to see how far it could take you. You never asked for a free ride. But your angelic features had your back. Because when you got sad or even the slightest bit discouraged, the tears made you look like an angel. And people would kill to help a real live angel. So you were their savior and they put all thier bets on you. And you just couldn't disappear fast enough. So you pleaded with me and sold me your most prized pocession - your soul - accompanied by a hefty $10 price tag; for a good swift kick to the face and a good stomping on your golden-hearted innocence. Because you were tired of trying to save everyone with your "best quality". So instead, I put sleeping pills in your pancakes because pretty girls don't deserve violence. And I told you it would all be over soon. [post dedicated to the lovely silkspiderwebs]