Tired of winter.
Tired of the snow.
Tired of being in pain.
Tired of people around me.
Tired of going to bed too late.
Tired of having to get up so early.
Tired of not dancing and doing what I love.
Tired of failing, being late to school.
Tired of not having good friends.
Tired of all this homework.
Tired of not doing it.
Tired of school.
Tired of you.

I wanted to write a poem.
But I wrote this instead.
I decided it didn’t matter that I couldn’t rhyme things.
And that I should just write whatever comes to mind.
I know there isn’t a single person I want to be with.
But I also know it’s you.

I understand that I’m just a paragraph in your life.

But what you don’t understand,
what you don’t realize
is how many chapters there are
of you

in mine.

You're still here
I see your Grand Cherokee parked in my driveway
You're still here
I see you walking back up to my front door
You're still here
Helping me set up my new PlayStation downstairs
(The one you helped convince me to buy)
You're still here
Sitting on my bed, with me
You're still here
...why?

You're still here
Taking my hand as we walk into the store
You're still here
Picking me up to go on an adventure
You're still here
Introducing me to your sister
(You look like her)
You're still here
Kissing me with your eyes closed
(I couldn't help but look)
You're still here
...why?

You're still here
Insulting me, yelling at me
You're still here
Hurting my already damaged wrist
You're still here
Throwing cake in my hair, on my birthday
(Laughing oh so hard about it)
You're still here
Your engine is starting on the street
You're still here
Months late, apologizing
You're still here
...why?

You're still here
Hurting me
You're still here
Teaching me that maybe I shouldn't love,
at least not with my whole heart
You're still here
...why?