How Are You?

How are you? Wait no, don't answer that. I've developed a bad habit of raising questions that I already know the answers to. So, how are you? You are inconsistent. You constantly cough up empty promises on steroids. You raise me up so high just to drop me harder, like a kid does with his old toys. And just like that kid, you reek of immaturity. I mean, come on. Who are you fooling? Coming at me with your same whack excuses... your same weak lies. So weak that your lip quivers after each word that you utter. Stutter after stutter. You've just exposed your facade. I see right through you. How are you? You are weak. After dropping a couple pick-up lines you thought it'd be easy. But you nearly broke your back in an attempt to pick up someone so heavy. So heavy, because she is clothed with strength. She's so full, with absolutely no voids. How are you? You are needy. You need her to seem weaker, but she's on another level now. You can't even reach her. You took her for granted before. Now you're so desperate to re-meet her. Oh what's wrong? Ah don't even bother answering that. You're so used to the comforting bed of your lies, that the truth is as discomforting as the bed of nails that you ignorantly made for yourself. How are you? You are pitiful. All you want to do is to cunningly escape the repercussions of your nonchalant behavior. You're so used to playing the victim, but it won't work today. Not on her. Not on me. Cause that'd just be too easy. Wouldn't it?

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