i pity you sometimes. with your feverous laugh, the way you complain about every fucking little thing. How even when you don't belong in the picture frame, you'll drown the city until you do. And the things you say, it's killing people. You make Romeo look like a jerk, a speck upon your white gown. Sitting on your pompous throne, sceptre in hand, ready to command. You're a Queen, but not through my eyes. And you run, eyes mascara streaked, red lipstick on bathroom mirrors with coffee cups in the basin, down the road, screaming... trying to save them, clicking refresh when you just can't. well, superheroes were made for a reason. To save the world. That's not your job. I pity you. I really do.