Death is beautiful

Somethings,
No matter how many times said
Or how many times done
You’ll never understand them
I’ll never understand them 
I’ve been on a nicotine and gingerale diet for a couple of months 
I used to love, this
I used to live for you 
Death would be beautiful 
I once thought you were too 
It’s 1:04 am, I’m in a crowded subway station with my green eyed mother who never learned how to be one, who put fucking first, money after, and her children last
I love her nonetheless

I’ve never asked to be loved, I’ve never asked for sympathy nor empathy, or anything else
Cheaters, liars, whores, drunks, smokers, junkies, presidents, white/blue collar workers, 9-5 businessmen, ..
Do you understand? We’re all the same, do you honestly believe that you’re different because you have money? Because your name is in the paper, because you’re fucking this one and that one? Because your mommy gave you up and your daddy got his nut off and left you too? Who the fuck are you?What do you stand for? Yeah, fuck what you stand for, fuck who you are, here, you aren’t anything. You aren’t shit to me. 
We’re all going to fucking die anyway.