Every hope I've ever built up,
it all comes crashing down.

How do I always get stuck with the broken ones,
their scattered pieces on the ground.

I'm left to pick them up
and solve their messy riddle.

I put their pieces back in place,
no matter how brittle.

I make them whole and happy.
I make them tall and strong.

I give them my devotion and love,
but then they treat me wrong.

Because I picked them up,
and helped them start anew

they think that they're entitled.
I guess that's what they're used to.

They're accustomed to deference.
They expect to be treated like queens and kings.

I let them abuse and use me,
each day brings a new sting.

I always realize too late,
getting hurt by their schemes and plans.

It's only when their true colors show
that I see bloodied red cuts on my hands.