I’m damaged goods, baby
Or did you forget?
Loose-leaf paper crumpled and discarded,
Like every poem I couldn’t bring myself to finish.

This girl comes with a lifetime guarantee
of cynicism and constant apologies
and selfish laziness.
For a low price of only commitment and patience,
you can become proudly entangled in my dysfunction and  constant need for reassurance.

You didn’t receive me shiny and brand new
I have mileage, and I’m not afraid to admit
That most of it is self-inflicted.
I have scars that tell stories
and a schema that has been shaped
by 22 years of poor judgment
and never feeling good enough.

And I can’t help but wonder,
what it would be like if I was stable and motivated.
Would you still get frustrated
when I lay in bed until 3 in the afternoon?
Would I be able to accomplish
all of the seemingly simple tasks
that always feel larger-than-life to this pint-sized girl?
Would you love me more?

I’m jaded, baby
and I think sometimes you forget
that when I’m putting on a face
and trying to be less of a disappointment,
I’m still made of fragmented parts
that have been glued back together
one too many times.