Thought I knew this well.
every step I had to take,
every lie--delivered smiling--I had to sell,
every mindless task, no breaks.
Thought you knew of my own created, designer hell.
watching me falter towards an imaginary goal,
watching my fibs for tells,
watching my to-do list quadruple.
I thought I knew how to quit,
how to snap out of it.
I thought you knew about it,
and how to deal with this ****.
Turns out that neither of us knows jack-squat.
And that's alright, I swear I got this, yeah I'm good, I can do it.
I hoped for you to say something, I thought you knew I was talkin' *******.
Yet, without a word, you left
me to rot.
Did you care? Did you ever even care? Did you see the signs? Did you know they were there?
Alternative Title: Doormat
**** i feel walked on