Cross leg with straight posture,
Emotion-wreck composed demeanour,
Taking a seat with wonder,
Staring at the clock stagger,
Pleasuring as the paint dry
On the walls, wailing a cry.

Cause of the tired reception music?
Or that small mistakes result in his antics.
Gaslighting me, recommending time away.
Insulting me, letting illness get its way.
To find the sickness, the toxicity stays.
Spreads and sours as the cure stares
Cold, dead eye, preventing us to dare
To set you, me, us free.

Tears stray from my facade and sour
Into the light from the reluctant opening door.
I wait a second for my battered will
To redeem my days of wait, to sell
More of my youth for someone of ill return.
His psych-love prepping to leave me more burned.

Until I learn to protect my mental health over an ill-tempered man's ego...

"Baby I'm sorry, please don't go", I say.