You are weary, I think

You are weary, I think

 Of endless puzzles and games

 And short romantic flames

  You have grown disenchanted

 With everything

 Every stupid girl and foolish fling

  You are bored

 Of things built upon passing waves

 Of all these conformists, these slaves

  You have grown spiteful

 Against people whining and nagging

 And keeping secrets and bragging

  And you are exasperated, maybe,

 With all your toys breaking

 As soon as you take them out of their boxes

  It may be you are sick

 Of instability and castles of crumbling sand

 Of things reeling and getting out of hand

  You have grown impatient

 With cheaters and capricious ******

 Who claim they are forever yours

  You are tired, perhaps

 Of feeling alone

 And things aching through no fault of your own

  I may not be

 The sturdiest thing you've ever laid eyes on

 I am little, and frail

 And weak and pale

 And I stumble when it's windy out

 But I know, without a doubt

 That for you I will be strong

 That I will never do you wrong

 I'll keep you from going off the brink

 Because you are weary, I think

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