I wish I could write the poem I wanted to

Expose you to the world and let them all know how you ain’t shit

Tell them how you flakier than a croissant

You less dependable than a wifi signal 30 feet underground

You so manipulative you should start your own puppet show so you can play with someone else’s strings

So good at putting on an act they should put you on Broadway

So good at lyin’ they should cast you as a lion,

in Lyin King

We can call you the king

The king of petty, the king of weak, the king of excuses

The king of wasted nights and wasted time

Give me my time back

Give me my books back

Give me back all those dinner dates we shoulda had but never did

Give me back all those times you shoulda spent with me but were so much less of a man than you pretend to be

How bout you make up for all the time I spent putting effort into you and you could not care less?

How bout you write an IOU for all the wasted feelings?

How bout you admit that there’s something about me that just makes you not wanna act right?

That there’s something about me you don’t know how to deal with and makes you and your ain’t-shit self treat me like shit?

How bout we go back two years ago and never meet

How do you lie to yourself every night you go to sleep?

How do you look at yourself in the mirror?

How do you think you are a superhero but you’re still wearing the cape I hand-stitched from my own courage?



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