He doesn't actually like me the way he should
He's messing with fool's gold, not knowing
His golden love is fake
No, why should he
When he developed a crush from reading my words
Over the summer when I wasn't there
While he liked her for the ones she spoke
With a smile thrown across the lunch table?
You built a bridge out of straws, lover boy
And maybe one day it'll come crashing down
With me standing among the rubble saying
"I told you so, now **** it up"
And then you would realize you built a stone bridge
For her, not for me
But until then, I'm happy with the metal's shine
As long as you don't mind the pyrite
So that one day you can find the real gold
The one that lets you like me the way you should
I need to work out a few kinks on this, but it fits into the "insecurity" theme because I wrote about something that scares me in a tone of voice that doesn't imply fear. I am terrified of anything from this poem actually being true, so rereading this confident piece makes me really insecure.
