Pardon me, dear, but I shall take my leave,
I intended to stay, yet I see I’m not needed.
Was I truthfully ever?
What hope was there, funny little speck of joy,
Has been ****** out by a single;
Word, breath, phrase.
I shouldn’t reach out,
Lest I get grabbed and forced to drain myself of,
Time, energy, caring, love.
When it’s just an insignificant boost to their day.
When I am nothing more than words on a page;
When I have faded to nothing more but a conversation.
I’ll stab my heart before I let myself feel that pain again.
Anything is better, death even is better, than that feeling,
I’m a toy.