What good am i?
I'm but a whore whose currency is the idea of 'love'.
I'm envious. I'm mad. I'm full of despair.
Of things that I shouldn't and could have done.
My being, just like a parasitical homonculus.
I'm always swept away, always pulled back.
Kind of like a yo-yo, or like waves.
If you truly know what you want.
Why don't you just crush my ideals now.