How easily you give up
you little, brittle you.
You frail excuse for a heart --
a crybaby, a box full of complaints.
You do not have a mind of your own.
Very strategically so, right?
You probably would have escaped
at the first chance otherwise.
Parasite! Selfish! Bastard!
You have to feed on my joy
and then bleed me and not yourself
when grief arrives.
Why am I to cry your tears?
When you're weak, I suffer.
Parasite! Selfish! Bastard!
With not a care for anyone but yourself,
you have to sob and bawl
when I don't pamper you.
Stupid kid!
Die, won't you?
No, don't!
Knowing you, you will kill me as well!
---
All Biprorshee must be heartless
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