One, two, three, four, the digits increment daily
Makes me fearfully wonder which number I am of the  many
I know boys like you are proud of their body count
Every casualty places you a rank higher, nearly twenty

It's the triumph of your manhood, the cause of others' envy
You think back fondly on these memories and leave me feeling empty
Every reaped ****** pinned on your chest in the form of a medallion
While every story of your victory encourages me to be petty

A wound in my chest where your bullet had pierced through
And a tally of scars on my skin for the times I've missed you
From when I so foolishly gave you my untainted heart
You were my one and only, and I dared expect to be yours too

The image of countless women wrapped around your body
These haunting thoughts racing through my head endlessly  
You smirk and brag like you're the golden saint of filth
Your pride making me regret and ashamed that you're my one and only

Your wealth in experience highlighting your superiority
I hate how you carelessly point out my inferiority
When you dodge the question "are you pleased?"
As I desperately pray for a change to make me  equally worthy

I almost crave the same attention that you received
To feel accomplished for once and to feel relieved
For you say to I'm good enough rather than turn away
For, to be your best, to be special is all I want to have achieved