taking the words right out my mouth
stealing my style and patterns
appropriating my thoughts and ideas
for your own use

you're so stale and instinctive
you have to take all my creativity
all the energy that I've put
into even living, and you've yet to take my last breath

crediting you as my savior
like you did me a favor
turning into spite
causing so much smite
dying within the walls
where we once had our calls

would it be a waste
if i still chased
when there's always a dullness
hidden in the truthfulness
when your feelings have faded
and i'm completely jaded

tired of this sophistry

missing for six months
crying every night
now that feeling is gone
and nothing will ever make it alright

wanting him to come home
whimpering for hours at a time
seeking for everyone's attention
because he never came back at nighttime

it all washes over
the way it never ends
constantly thinking about it
it's hard to always pretend