Excuses, excuses - they'll come in a flood,
When you realize your actions have pushed me away.
Imagine! That I once considered you blood!
But I've had quite enough of the games that you play.
The switch came in stages, a gradual thing,
I first didn't notice; it wasn't too clear.
My perspective grew sharper with distance between,
Felt your backhanded words as they pin-pricked my ears.
You thought I wouldn't notice, would let it slip by,
Never gave me much credit, and that was your fault.
Wrapped your insults in jokes, like arsenic on rye,
And you thought all this time that you wouldn't be caught.
I don't know where you get it - this self-righteous act,
It's not as endearing as you think it to be.
You might take what you want, and then leave it at that,
But I'm telling you now: you'll get no more from me.
I don't know what has prompted you picking this fight.
They're pathetic, yet hurtful, these things that you say.
And I don't know where you think you've gotten the right
To take it out on me when you don't get your way.
For years, it's been happening - don't know how I missed
All the ways you controlled me; I answered to you.
Always did what you wanted, I'm realizing this;
The extent of the selfishness you put me through.
But it changed not too long ago, didn't it, dear?
Oh yes, I grew a spine, and things started to change.
And, oh, you didn't like what you started to hear.
My defying your wants nearly made you deranged.
People grow and they change; it's especially true
For me ever since I was finally free.
So how sad to discover it's not true for you,
You're the same as you were, and as you'll always be.
That's the person you are, who you've been since we met
And it never caused issues until days of late.
The things that you've said are things you will regret,
Because I have no room for your envy-fueled hate.
You've become quite the mean one - I'm sorry, it's true.
You're no longer the person to whom I could turn.
It's a shame (it's a damn shame), but yes, we are through.
And it will not be me who is nursing the burn.
Maybe one day you'll change, and we might reunite.
I'm not getting my hopes up - there's danger in that.
Until then, I hope you learn to treat people right,
Because no one desires to stand by a brat.
Maybe I am the first to address how you are,
But I won't be the last, and this, I can assure.
Your poignant self-righteousness won't get you far,
And I'm sorry - for your case, there isn't a cure.
So remember me now; you'll remember me then,
When you lose all those who used to stand at your side.
You'll remember the disrespect you showed your friend,
For alas, she won't be there, holding you as you cry.
I sit there and know
That I could never
Engage myself in conversations
With these conundrums.
Those who are both human, and
Badly wrapped paper packages,
Filled with so much experience,
Brimming with knowledge which
Is rapidly fleeing through
The holes in the brown paper
Worn by time.
How can I speak to those
Who cannot hear my words in full
So that they must be talked to
They are children
But that have been through so much
More than I
At the tender age of seventeen
Could even imagine.
How can I speak to these enigmas
Who keep asking me the same questions
But which I cannot talk to
Not only towards them
But towards my future
Aged self, who will one day
Be in their position
And who I cannot imagine
Will want to be treated
Like a five year old
At the age of eighty five.
Will make me the wiser.
He's kept me in the dark so long,
and it's hard to respect ~
I know not what.
A blind bird will bite
the hand that feeds him,
because even a dumb bird
cannot sustain loyalty
to the diminishing sustenance
of treacherous darkness.
where no light is found.
to the light of truth;
the softness of truth
found in good discretion.
Morning sunrise casting pink
and yellow reflections.
And, after all these years
of groping in the darkness,
clinging and clawing
that, which I found
in the darkness,
that, which bears
of love remain.
Fill me now!
There is a purpose
and I am in need.
I am a blind,
dumb blackbird ...
waiting on love.
He's out of my league.
Sorry to break your tiny little hearts
But women are not objects.
So, before you post pictures
Of yourself getting head
On the internet
Or before you tell Her
To 'get back in the kitchen'
Or to "make me a sandwich',
Why don't you
Swallow your pride
And Fuck your ego.
You disrespect my
words, the meanings
they shout out.
I have some thing
to say, but you want
to silence my words
that I wish to write
I have regret, no I
have none, I will
write that which
must be wrote, and
I don't as the permission
of any one.
If you don't like that which
is wrote, then close your eyes
to my words and move on,
I am free my words are free
and will live on...
Maybe I’m just weird
But it seems rather
Strange to me
That it is only I
The gay atheist
Will say the pledge
All the others around me
Cocooned in warm ignorance
Refuse to address rights only they have
Telling me to forget my past
How do you expect me to do something like that?
You tell me you love me,
Then flock to the next pretty girl you see.
Oh, so that's how it's going to be.
I have enough to worry over,
Aside from jealousy.
I try to be good to you; I show that I care.
I don't need to always acknowledge you're there.
I need my own space too, I need time.
And when I do, I don't want to hear you whine.
We see each other too much; this is going too fast.
You're already taking me for granted;
What the hell's up with that?