My mistakes and my misery are the same. I look for saviors in comrades, who am I to kid? Who are these that will be something close to me? I tease and flaunt ideas to myself of happy days and happy ways, both are diseases that have one cure. Shut it up and close the door. What is worse? A constest it seems of who hurt who the worst; but I couldn't have possibly counted because it was my shout out that embittered comrade more. Woe is me I say; I should give a damn, perhaps two as they say. Now, I leave my word too; okay. Short and sweet because emotionally deep could not be reached. Okay! 

It has been awhile and no longer wish for a savior or even a comrade today, my words tend to be longer than three which is a monologue I have to agree.