The jig

A cut, a cut so deep,
it splits veins and shatters bone,
fucking up nerves,
and leaving muscles trembling in the cold.
These are my incurred feelings,
followed by my inward screams,
and merrily, merrily, merrily, it is nothing but a dream,
but reality is so hard to remember,
and I think I met you in september,
and to think of it now,
you're exactly the girl I met before,
slightly a whore, with good girl intelligent tendencies.
And I am nothing you remembered,
not so forgiving or starry eyed,
tho after a world full of compromise, compromise, compromise,
I still believe,
I wouldn't recognize me either.
But it's time I stop doing the jig,
and you stop stealing from the cookie jar,
cause I'll end up broken,
and you'll end up fat,
and there's not point in that jack,
no there's no point in that.