It still hurt
No matter what I do it still hurts
And I just want to listen to him again
But it's in my eyes like dirt
It'll always be in my eyes, like fog
I'll never forget it, because it stings so much
It covers my heart as well, like smog
Cause when I listen to him I remember your touch
What you did to me was not poetic
As an artist I try to find the art in it
But what you did was not aesthetic
Yet I try so hard to find something nice in it
What you did was not poetic
And I hope that you regret it
You're a disgrace to writers
Who, after they meet you, have to become fighters
About it I can't write poetry
It was horrible, disgusting
What you did should be known globally
Because you need some lessons on trusting