I’m so tired,

but I could break every dish in this place.

If I screamed,

and bled,

and fell to my knees,

would you even walk over to clean up the mess on your floor?

Mr. Incredible,

waiting for your wonder woman,

but who the **** is a hero,

when no one’s being saved.

Trusted you,

thrusted you,

and now,

i’m disintegrating,

rusted in you.

Cut from the same cloth,

but i’m fading.

I’m torn up,

and spilled on,

and nothing but new is good enough for you.

Took me away,

bag me up,

may wind up at a good will.

But all I had was good will,

good intentions,

muddled by imperfections

you must not have been able to look past.

But ain’t that the ***,

calling the kettle ******.

You’re riddled with the same mistakes as me,

breaks as me,

teased about your weight like me,

face like me,

the braces that used to cover your incisors,

but mine weren’t.

I was always straight with you.

And one time,

I was late with you.

And then,

you ran.

Cause our mistakes,

could only be placed on me.

Now,

i’m tired.

Cause I could have held part of you,

but I just held the burdens.

And I did so gladly,

I wore you like a crown.

I sported you rightfully,

but you thought you entitled me.

Again about me.

Even when i’m dissing you,

i’m wishing I was kissing you.

Cause you helped make me,

baby.

But now i’m your creation,

sitting here waiting,

wishing I was breaking,

everything,

but us.