What’s wrong with being depraved?
With being a deviant, a survivor… a monster?
What’s wrong with living shamelessly?
Why should I have regrets?
What’s wrong with being me…
If I want to hurt you, I will.
There’s no guilt left in me.
I’ve got no empathy to feel your pain.
I’m tired of acing like I’m ashamed.
I don’t need to be anything but me.
If you expect me to, if you get hurt, if I disappoint you…
I’m not sorry.