You were never good at cleaning up my messes.
You would throw punches, and talk trash
Destroy whatever came into your line of sight,
and then some

You asked me why I came back
I still ask myself this question, numerous time
In numerous different places, phases of my life
I still don't have a solid answer,
But you still wait

And wait for me to say those words,
Return the favor of the hurt
Making messes
No one will ever clean up