Nostalgically Sick

by Noise Pollution

it doesn’t fucking matter what I look like
when I’m just as ugly on the inside
it doesn’t matter what I feel like
when my thoughts are so disgustingly displayed
on my arms
there’s red marks
so imperfectly aligned
in my life
there’s highlights
that always seem to slip my mind
but I remember
what went wrong
and I remember
a little song
I wrote when I was fifteen
a little sad, a little bit mean
a little pop, a little punk rock
a little lame, a little bit not
it said that I was feeling sick
it said you made me feel like shit
it said you didn’t give a damn
and now I wonder if I am
still writing that same song

and it makes me sick
and it makes me feel like shit
and I know that
you won’t even try to give a damn

and I don’t mean to bring up the past
but some nights when I’m laying alone I feel like it’s all I have
and I don’t mean to get so angry now
but even after two long years I haven’t figured it out
and I feel so rotten now
and I feel so hollowed out
and I’ve gained, like, eighty pounds
and I’ll never live you down
but it doesn’t matter what I look like
when I’m just as ugly on the inside
it doesn’t matter what I feel like
when my thoughts are so disgustingly displayed
on my arms
there’s red marks
so imperfectly aligned
like my feet
from old heat
that never leaves my mind
and never left my body
I guess that’s why it’s so damn hard
to cope with all these broken hearts
I’ve got these problems in the daylight
that disappear in the dark of night
but when I still see
something wrong with me
I feel like giving up.

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