For you, it's easy.
Bat your eyes and you can have your pick of anyone.
But for me? Not so easy.
What I have I no longer flaunt.
Now, I show it to the people who I love more than anything.
I gave it up for you, if you care to recall.
What made me unique, what brought me to you in the first place.
I actually gave it all up for you.
You can say that I still have my smarts, my brain.
But no one falls in love with intellect anymore.
How shallow we've all become.
It's just another "pro" on the list of whether
or not you should maybe **** him,
and then be done with him.
Now I sit here with an old man's regrets,
wistfully thinking about the glory days,
when I am no more than nineteen years old.
From time to time, I wonder why.
Why did I ever do that for you?
I will pick up the broken pieces of what was
once my soul's joy, and I will become whole again.
I will become unique, and valued, and loved,
by someone, anyone, other than you.
Sure, you might see me in my return to happiness,
but, let's be honest, you probably won't.
You'll be too busy,
batting your eyes
at everyone
but me.