hey, Bobbi
'parce que c'est la façon dont le monde fonctionne'? that's a lie.
welcome to the brief encounter with my mind.
'parce que c'est la façon dont le monde fonctionne'? that's a lie.
welcome to the brief encounter with my mind.
I’m sorry
I’m sorry I’m not there
I’m sorry I don’t make you smile as much
As the next person certainly will
I’m sorry I’m not who you want
I’m sorry I’m not good enough
I’m sorry I’ve failed
I’m sorry you’re not interested
I’m sorry you’re so sad
I’m sorry I can’t do anything
In more ways than one
I’m sorry I’m uninteresting
Boring
A bother
I’m sorry I’m useless
I’m sorry I’m meaningless
I’m sorry I’m nothing in comparison
I’m sorry I’m a dissappointment
A complete waste of your time
I’m sorry I’m so scared
I’m sorry I fucked up
I’m sorry I’m fucked up
And I’m sorry that I’ve given up.
‘sorry’ can only go so far -
so far is only about a foot and a half.
and no matter how many ‘sorry’s you stack on top of each other,
they’ll never rewind what’s been done.
There’s nothing behind face
Value and it’s obvious.
And it’s exhausting.
Pretty words
For a pretty girl
That’s all that’s deserved
And a smile
“Baby, don’t worry about it”
It’s no matter
That face doesn’t matter
Just keep that mouth shut
Not interested.
And listen to
People who exist.
People who matter.
People much more important.
And they are.
Just a conclusion
An unnoticed conclusion
Because you’re a mockingbird
And everyone hates your song.
And you do care
You do hurt
You do feel
You do try
And fail.
And fail.
And fail.
And fail.
And all you want is to make someone happy.
I give up. I give up on trying to trust people. I give up on trying to understand. I give up on being there for you.. when you’re not for me. I don’t fucking understand why I get this every single time - not just with romantic relationships, but any - where I listen strenuously to every word you have to say and I allow you to lean on me as a crutch without complaint; now I’m complaining. I’m tired. I’m used. I’m old beyond my years, and I don’t know why, and I can’t ever show it. I’m slowly dying and there’s no resuscitation. So I give up. You don’t need to resuscitate me. My complaints and pains and exhausted details will go unnoticed, as they have for years. As long as I can be here for you. As long as you’re fine, don’t worry. I’m here to worry for you. And it’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.