You've got some real nerve thinking we could be friends again,
And I've got a real problem telling right from wrong again,
I think I stood strong, you still wouldn't admit you were wrong,
I understand I was harsh, but don't forget how you led me on,
You threw me away and ruined what we had,
After you found more strife in another man,
Now I'm ****** up, because you couldn't keep your legs shut,
I know you'll try and talk to me again this year,
But this time, I might legitimately give a ****.

Some glorious state after having slept,
Divine and less perpetuating, but not as easily kept,
Not as easily as it could with a bottle,
They told us it could set us blind,
But the rooftop says otherwise,
And I don't have the heart to leave this suit behind, for mother to find,
Along with these limbs that were once mine,
Mother, you know I don't care for what others see of me these days,
But had you the room, take the time to stuff me back into your womb,
That is, had I lost you, or the way you look at me with rhetoric in your eyes,
Let there be room for me to catch a smoke break, say, six feet under.

You hurt me the way I want to hurt him,
You should know I never wanted to be this way,
Turned bitter after three years of resentment and shame,
High School always starts and ends the same,
Whisper down the lane, and strip me of my name,
On the bright side,
I won't have to find places in the hallways to hide,
because this final year will be the year I don't have your schedule memorized.

First you **** with my brain,
Then you throw me away,
Oh, I see how it is,
Now my eyes are pried open,
And I can see clearly,
That I'm better than all of this,
You condescend me for a smoke,
Then you find someone like him,
You've become a ******* joke,
Rest assured that tonight is not another night,
Where I'll be using your name to choke.

Just another week,
Finals, then report cards, then the salvation my burnt out head seeks,
And finally, a few months away from you,
Activities to forget the awful words you spewed,
I've been doing no work at home, in the classroom or on the bus,
It seems my burnt out head is two weeks ahead of us,
Next year, senior year, last year of rumors and trends,
I shall repeat to myself, over and over,
*It's the start of the end

As I lay here with my ear in between the cold ceramic tiles and my head,
I can finally let go of the fact that I never said:
You are a leech,
You are the loss of speech,
You are the pieces of broken glass one finds on the beach,
You are the hypocrisy,
That taught me not to **** where I eat,
You are the rug,
that clutches like quicksand,
Sinking its teeth into my feet,
Keeping me from moving forward,
And everything that has, is or ever will push me away from you,
Is a privilege and a favor.