Perhaps I should move on this time...

     You keep telling me to "do me" and all I can think in return is "go **** yourself".

I don't want to fix me. That's why I picked you, don't you see?
I do now, with clarity.

I get so sick of examining myself that I'll pick a girl off the bottom shelf.
A fixer upper- a lost cause case.
Some deplorable skirt to chase.

I'll focus on you- I'll pick and mend; so I've no time to look within.
I'll build you up, I'll build you tall. Wretched me-I'll just crawl.

I put all this work into you and now you're strong, beautiful, and proud, standing loudly above the crowd.

But please don't dare return such grace. Don't give me time, love, or encouragement.
Save face...

Get ******* noble on me. I built you up too tall, you see. I'm still down here?
The foundation to your tower.
The minutes into your hour.
I'm the dirt and you're the flower.

I'm the roots unto your tree.
I fed you, gave you light, and set you free.
And what I get is just "Do me"?
I wish it were that easy...

Had I done that, you wouldn't be in such a fine ******* position to sling clichés and I wouldn't be in the gutter where you once laid.

Perhaps you're right...
I obviously need some work done. But ******* for taking all and giving none.