displaying a badly painted portrait of myself to the public
just so that i can be picked on, as i predicted
self-sabotage isn't just a bad habit, but a disease
the only cure to it is self-love, but that's something i can never seem to reach

possibly the pain became too addicting
or i'm afraid of change, i'm afraid to be loved
after all i can never accept the fact that i am loved in the first place
i'm so used to mistreatment, for it's the only form of love i know

I like it
I love it
I lyk it
I let you show it
if you don't loll me to sleep
by only responding with lol
from inside a black out crowd
you back it down to a bracket brown
then wait to text "guess who's back in town?"
to try to catch-up without ****
so I can see your vacant eyes and barren scoff
when you tell me lies to tell me off
you think you're sly but you're just a cop
abusing power until I pop
you build a tower to watch me drop
while I'm falling you ask wya, eta, etc.
while I'm just terrified of breaking my femora
talking on Snapchat with a broken camera
after you ask me to send nudes
like that's all that men do
so I bid you adieu to get rid of the rude
member of the brood to which Cronnenberg alludes
you respond with kthxbai
I wonder why I even try.

addictions are hard to overcome
maybe that's why it is so hard to get over you
because to me, you were my drug

When you wrap your heart so safely
To save it from the dark
And your spark snuffs out

I fell. Hard.

On the floor.

It was gravity's fault.

I did nothing wrong.

I am heavier than I seem.

The sky won't tuck me in.

oh but every time you left
you took a piece of me with you
and now
that part of me is all gone