Oh, woe is me, for my emo-hotness is being plagued by the sick and sad existance of too much homework. People so scene as I should not be forced into doing such mundane tasks as systems of equations! We should be out and about, moussing our hair and going to Dashboard concerts! Polishing our thick rimmed black glasses and attempting to make our haircuts even choppier! Buying new pins to put on our messenger bags slung so carelessly yet so stylishly over our thin emo shoulders! I must write an angsty poem to unleash some of the sorrow I must contend with daily, just by going out into the world and being forced to be in the company of those less emoliciously hot and sorrowfully miserable than I. The blood Kit Tens eat me They wait to Pour Tears of Crim Sin down my Ar M ;" Ah, that really helped in getting some of my totally emolicious frustrations out, but I still feel the need to write on myself with a pencil and then wash it off in order to display the red scratch marks and show my emoness and unfathomable sadness and sorrow and bruised heart-y-ness to the whole world. Oh my bruised heart bleeds with the bloodiness of a thousand dead kittens spewing their precious lifeblood over the many sinners that don't listen to Alexisonfire. The hopelessnesss and bruisedness of my heart are only surpassed by the amount of crimson tears that I cry in order to maintain living in this sad, emo-cruel world.