Dancing, playing, fucking
Life is a joke for you.
Snarling, writhing, vomiting
Being a rebel never felt so good.
Bleeding, acting, snapping
Your childish games have to end sometime.
Believing, relishing, committing
Choke on my name when you speak it.
Barking, chasing, judging
I wouldn’t breathe life into you.
Smiling, spewing, yearning
Be the captain of your own fucking ship.
It’s the f’ing hardest thing to do.
I get it.
I struggle with it.
I still expect things of people. I still hope for things for people.
It’s 2 a.m. and I am laying awake worried about a situation that isn’t even my own.
It’s 3 a.m. and I am laying awake wondering where I went wrong.
It’s 4 a.m. and I am laying awake wondering what I could have done differently.
I had to go away.
I had to grow.
I start to make connections. It happened to me. You had to go away. You had to grow.
It’s different though. In some way.
Somehow it’s always different.
You’re different now.
My heart is fucking broken and I don’t believe you care.
I am afraid for you. For that flicker.
You don’t know how much you’re worth.
I can’t convince you.
I don’t even know if you need me anymore.
I don’t know if I can do it anymore.
Be a doormat.
Be something to discard when you’re done with me.
I want to be a part of your life, not just serve a purpose.
Someday I won’t be here anymore.