The glasses in my room accumulate,
Unlike my self-worth.
Is this just a game to you?
I've loved you since the first
Second,
Minute,
Hour,
Day,
My misery was gone,
You made it go away.
But you rub this wound harsher
than anyone has rubbed one before.
And I know you know I'm hurt,
but you just treat me like a whore,
I'm hurting and I know you know!
You've made it abundantly clear.
You've talked about it.
It's practically written on the mirror,
My eyes,
My brain,
My skin,
My heart,
But you still rub it in and it's breaking me apart.