Was I too damaged
Too broken
To fit in that perfect little world of yours?
Was I too much
To handle
In regard to where you stood?
I suppose I should feel like it's
My own fault.
I should be stronger.
I should hold my head higher.
I should be better.
But I laugh at the voices in the back of my head.
Who are you to tell me who I am?
So if there's not a spot next to you,
Then that's fine with me.
Allow me to pick up the pieces
And be on my way.
Because if I've learned anything at all,
It's to leave before you are left.