The Title Of This Has Nothing To Do With The Actual Poem It's More Of A Poem In ITs Self ( I Hope Fall Out Boy Doesn't Sue Me They Already Beat Me With Sticks)

This years gonna be a good one. 

In the sense of slitting your wrist.

To movies were your best friend gets your girl.

With looks that kill, and lips that stun.

Who could wait till christmas?

Selling new shoes for the price of the world.

You know I'm no good.

At being good.

I'm in trouble.

With the treble clef.

Crawl into my little bubble,

And give me a kiss.

You know you're the last thing I wanna see.

So swing by my house.

Lets paint pictures of birds and trees.

I'll be as tremulous as a mouse.

What do you do when you're left alone?

Know what, I don't want to you.

The sun is out tonight.

My imagination is much worse.

High school scandals, an knife fights.

I guess I never thought this broken heart

Would bring me so far.

This just might be a waist of time.

Wasting time just might be.

The next best thing.

I close my eyes to sleep.

Trying to dream.

Giving up on me, myself, and I.

I taste bitter sweet in my eye.

Falling down.

Till I hug the ground.

And swallow my pride.

Stay now.

I can still feel your warmth and touch.

Oh I miss it so much.

Its all because of you.

That I feel like filth now.

Because your heart is so cruel.

That this is going to be a good year.