It’s so much easier to like
Them
Isn’t it?

Much more convenient
For you
To walk away from me

And make up

A million

And one

Excuses
Why you need to leave.

Would it really hurt you more
Than me
To tell me in my face that

It’s so much easier to like
Them

Isn’t it?

If you really love me,
Why won’t you show it?
If you really love me,
Why won’t you say it?

Why won’t you show me that
                                                     you
Don’t love me anymore?
Why won’t you tell me that you

Don’t want me anymore?
That you don’t care, you don’t care,
You care? Don’t you say?
Why don’t you walk away?

Why won’t you send me away,

Like how you
                         Always
Let my presence          fade?

Like how you

                         Loved me?

Perhaps in a better place
My pianos sit untouched
And the neighbours get to live
In peace without the hundreds
Of song intros that never
Progress to the chorus
Floating upstairs from the patio.
A better place where there'd
Be one less in the class,
Maybe an empty chair or
Perhaps a different
Arrangement altogether;
25, a perfect square
Without one extra to care for.
In a better place
There'd be more space
In the studio for the other
17-ish dancers, minus one
That always travelled too
Much, took up too much room
Physically and mentally.
In a better place these
Poor trees
Would have been put to
Better use, better than
Too many words too many
Don't want on paper;
Too many words in air
Exhaled from a mouth
That moves too much.
In a better place there'd be
More oxygen, more food,
More water.
In a better place
My parents only have one daughter.