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I hate this man for saving France. Goddamn him.
I hate French. I wish it had never been bastardized as a language, leaving me making the retarded decision to take the class. I hate French so much that during the course of a single class, I feel like bashing my head into the desk until I am given a concussion no less than EIGHTEEN times. That's right, eighteen times in one hour and a half long period, I feel like beating the crap out of myself. Today I had French. Oh man. It sucked, I am failing the class (the first time I've ever failed a class), and I just want to leave, I don't want to deal with it. I hate French so much that I wrote this during the class today:
Staring in his cold lifeless eyes
No pity, no compassion, no remorse
Afforded to you
The needle sinks in
Darkness comes calling
Enveloping you in its grasp
No death for you yet.
As you awake, the pain comes back
Screaming, tearing your soul in two.
The knife pierces your chest
Drawing crimson tears from your flesh
Sliding down, the wound lengthens
The gash weeping blood in rivulettes.
In come the metal arms,
Spreading your ribs to expose your softly beating heart.
You scream in pain, praying for
An end to your day time nightmare.
No release, no relief, the expermients
They never end.
Injections into your skull, skin
Peeled back to create fabric
For his sadistic pleasure, he owns
Your soul, tossing it down to Satan.
Your blood covers his hands
He doesn't care; he enjoys your pitifull
Cries for an end. It doesn't stop
It does not end.
Pretty perky, huh?
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