i sometimes wonder why you still visit my mood swings,
left in abandoned playgrounds between my chest.
why you still visit even though the slides may only carry you down to somebody like me.
somebody difficult to love,
somebody who cannot tell the difference between crying and laughing anymore.
why you haven't left this soul,
who's bones can't seem to find enough strength to push my side of the sea saw,
who can't seem to move past three poles on the monkey bar,
simply because of the weight on top of my shoulders.
this flesh of complete brokeness that couldn't bare ringa ring rosie,
because at some point one gets tired of always falling.
i often wonder, why me.
why me, with all my chipped paint and countless dents.
why you still visit,
when this isn't the grass on other side that's greener.
because God knows,
i'd understand if you look for a park elsewhere.
a park worthy of you.

They wonder why the flowers in your garden are losing their glow
But they'll never know that all of my butterflies drank your sweet nectar and later died from its poison
My butterflies wanted to love your petals and watch your garden grow
But your beautiful flowers were rotten at their roots
They were never meant to give nor receive love