Love me as I am,” you say —
The dumbest line we use each day.
It holds no truth, it holds no grace,
Just empty words in a worn-out place.
You mumble it with trembling tone,
He looks through you, cold as stone.
You hoped for poems, stars, romance —
But he won’t give you one more chance.
You dreamed a boy with softer hands,
Who feels, who sees, who understands.
But hearts like his, so dark, withdrawn,
Will never bloom, will never dawn.
You wanted tales with happy ends,
You hoped he'd break, but no—he bends.
nder touch, no gentle smile,
He’s drowned in poison, hate, and bile.
The light once clear has turned to ash,
His soul is twisted, cold, and brash.
He won’t believe in something pure—
Too scared to love, too insecure.
“Love me as I am,” again—
You chant it like a holy strain.
But poems aren’t for girls who cry,
And he’s too lost to even try.
“Love her as she is,” you fool—
It’s not such nonsense, not so cruel.
But blind and proud, you walked away,
And let your joy just rot and stray.
