Cooped up in a four walled room,
Thinking to myself “What's wrong with me?”
When actually, I should be saying - “What's wrong with you?”

Succumbing to the pattern of predictability - never ceases.
Meet me at first glance, a million red flags illuminate me like a fuckin’ christmas tree.

You tell yourself, “This bitch is crazy, but I bet her pussy tastes as juicy as a freshly sliced waterme...

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