Close your eyes and tell me the last time you felt sorry for anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if you couldn’t answer me. I want you to know there’s hatred for you in every fiber of my being. I hope in the end I get to be the one to clip your dirty wings. I want you to hurt so bad that you finally know what it’s like to feel. I hope it stings. I think I’ve found you’re perfect matches. I’ll strike, sit back and laugh. I’ll feed the flames as the fire catches, and bask in the aftermath. I hope that your lungs fill with smoke. And you smolder out. Ignore the consequences for as long as you can bear. What will you do when you find there’s no one there? Can you feel it? Show me what’s pumping through your veins. I hope you feel it. When you hit the ground. When I clip your wings.
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