Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
He tells me my name is baby.
And I let him all the same.
My self respect brushed under the carpet
with the promise of quick fame.
He tells me my name is baby.
It makes my mother sad.
She shakes her head in disapproval,
and blames it on my dad.
He tells me my name is baby,
and I let him all the same.
My self respect brushed under the carpet,
and I'll later name it shame.
 Apr 2014 Ferrin McGinness
i
if you get home tonight,
you will find three cassettes
on the table in our living room,
where we shared kisses and
drank coffee.
on the first cassette that will be
next to the full cup of cold coffee,
it will be written "cassette for when
you're happy",
which i hardly believe you
will play it.
the second cassette will be on
top of a letter i have written
only for you, with a small
amount of dry tears on the paper,
and it will say "cassette for when
you're sad", and perhaps this
will be the most played one.
around the final cassette
will be nothing, the cassette will
be alone, just like us,
and it will say "cassette for when
you feel nothing", and be careful,
my darling, because i know
you're often numb, just like me.
and perhaps, you might get lost
in this cassette,
just like i was in you.
that is why i am leaving now,
i am lost, my darling,
and i need to find the right path,
the light, which in this case,
is not you.
*you are not my right path,
you are not my light,
and i am not your right path,
i am not your light,
but you still love me,
and i still love you,
even though i am leaving,
and never coming back
You wrote me off,
so I'll write you on.
You see,
when you leave,
you just provide inspiration.
So in the end just who used who?
It's pretty **** simple,
"I used you."
You probably wished
I would sob away life.
But that's so inhumane,
why run,
when I can fly?
You probably thought,
I'd plead you to stay,
but nah..
to be honest,
I'm feeling really okay.
I don't care about
the things you said,
the things you did,
or the things you tried so hard to hide.
In two years or so,
I won't even remember you're name.
"He did that to me? Oh what a shame."
Now for once,
I'll give you what you want,
and this time you can't complain.
I'll write you into this poem,
and soon enough you'll have fame.
Comments? Hearts?

— The End —