What's Love Got to Screw With It
Awwwwww... you poor little baby. Your x-boyfriend doesn’t want you back. It must be so hard on you losing everyone you’ve ever loved. No, no don’t cry, awwww that’s so sad. Everyone must feel really sorry for you cause your so cute (except when they take off your panties and see that your sex holes are a foot in diameter and you have a raging yeast infection among countless other vaginal diseases). Being a filthy whore must be so hard on you. Giving all those blowjobs cause no one wants to have actual sex with you. Everybody’s all nice to your face, but then when you leave the room, they all whisper how disgustingly drippy you are. You must be so proud of yourself, I’ll bet your family is too. And everyone at school and your job. Well, except for when all the guys discuss how they had to wear two condoms just to look at you. You adorable little walking joke, you must feel so accomplished. Remember the last time you took on four guys, and then told everyone they raped you, your like so totally clever. It would have worked if everyone didn’t associate you with gangbangs. Oh yea, and if your going to let people scam you for sex you should at least charge some money. I guess it wouldn’t really earn you any respect but maybe then you could go purchase a bottle of vagisil or maybe even some valtrex. Alright, ok I know your mad at the world for not getting as much attention as your hotter girlfriends, but damn you don’t have to go flaunting yourself around and spreading disease and famine (well maybe not famine) as easily as you spread your legs. Recollect, if you will, way back to when you were a delightful little girl playing in the backyard, and everything was sunshine and gumdrops. But, by now your a bitter little bitch begging guys to put it in your asshole. My how the time goes by. So fast you probably didn’t even realize the transition (uhh, if you even know what transition means - no, no sweetie, it‘s not when you give one guy a blow job, while another guy fucks you, and then they switch). Oh, your right it’s not your fault. When you were growing up you started to realize that your body was a product for old dirty men to make money off of. You, little silly, you. I guess you didn’t understand that you would end up ashamed, loose, and disgusting. With no one to love you except for those forty-year old dudes who attend strip clubs regularly. It seems wrong, you know, that you’ll never learn anything in life except what herpes looks like. You’ll never feel the real you, the you deep inside (even though everyone else in town has. Oh! duh-dulunt-dunt-clash). You’ll never really fall in love, because whenever someone loves you, everyone else will tell them what a sloppy fuck you are and they won’t really want a piece of the gonorrhea pie. But it’s cool though, you don’t need to be loved. In fact you could care less, because your too young now, and have plenty of time to fall in love later. When your ready to settle down, you’ll live with an eighty-year old guy with lots of money, and pamper him with bed pans and mashed carrots until he dies and you get all his riches. Now that’s love baby, that’s love.-end
