She's a hand me own girl-
she started off with dreams
and hopes of love
and romance
and ended up
used
and worn by men
who didn't give a ****
about what she's worth.

She begins her night on town
hard arsed and cynical
but after a few drinks-
loneliness shows
from her mask that hangs
akwardly
off her scarred pretty face.

I approach her from my own shy bruised seat and my loneliness finds hers.

When I was a dreamer
patience was easy,
but then again
maybe patience was my blindness.

Everything must happen now!
How do I play this game right?
Man I hate these games.

Cat and mouse,
cat and mouse,
cat eats mouse
and then cat gets poisoned by mouse
and dies infected with bitterness.

I've died a thousand times over
and I still die whenever I meet a beautiful woman.

I try to be suave and lighthearted-
to pretend to be a dream,
a hope,
but my heart explodes inside me
and I stand there naked ad exposed.

I never was a good liar.

Before long I see her
kissing a better liar than I am.

I know she was not my dream to begin with
but still anger burns inside me:
I cant get what I want and i cant settle for what i don't want.

Typical spoilt brat.

I go home alone thinking-
maybe I'm the hand me down girl.