she never read my poetry. matter of fact she never gave a **** about anything that did to me.
she never tried to learn me, every chance she had she was intentionally trying to burn me.
I started thinking about a quote I once heard.
you accept the love you think you deserve.
when in reality no one deserves less than the world.
I was killing myself mentally, making myself go through hell with this girl.
knowing she wasn't anything, literally, wanting to go back home, critically, missing home, physically, speaking out my *** potentially ruining any chance I had of coming back home.
I was home sick but I was sick of home.
my mind made up a whole story of it own,
made me hate her for doing things for reasons she didn't, saying things she wouldn't, hurting me on purpose..
she hurt me on purpose, but we both had guns. I pulled my trigger first and they both turned automatic.
rapid fire shots sending head shots every round.
yet we were still standing,
fighting for the one thing we knew that wasn't dead.
white flags waving we realized we were fighting for the same thing.
fighting to come back home.
for my home was her, as her home was me.
italicized home, her, and she are a different person than the "she" referred to in the beginging