you're not entitled to my time
because you ask for it
you can't **** my creativity dry
because you thirst for it...
I'm not a product on a shelf,
I'm not a diva over-involved with herself...
I'm an artist,
I'm an old soul,
and that alone can take its toll...
because I've got patience that is dwindling
surrounded by entitlement that is sickening
and how dare you assume I owe you anything
when there's details you're ******* missing
you don't know a thing about me
so you fill in the silence with your vanity
as if I choose to give you all of my energy
when you're the force that is stripping me
I owe you nothing
and never once asked you for an apology
because I know I'd never get it
I'm just trying to ******* forget it