I am not what I once was.
I am grateful. I regret.
I am a walking talking skipping record...
again and again these words come and go.
And just like most things...
when they go they are gone.
Nothing to you. My words. The anger.
"It will be different" "It will get better"
No more ranting replies from me... just a repeated question...
over and over and over and over again.
Five years is a pretty long investment.
But still I question who has done the most investing.
It's a really selfish question and I almost always hate myself for asking.
But fuck you. Seriously. We both know the answer.
We both wish we didn't and so there's not much left to do.
(except perhaps) Repeat. (and we do)
You say "I love you" and I say "I'm sorry but your loves just not working."
Because you're not working... and I always am.
You see how that doesn't work?
And I do love you but I am self-battered and always on the verge...
of psychotic break.
Broken like your promises... and I know it's my own god damn fault(!)
If I were the woman you destroyed, post-damage
...you might listen again and mean the things you say.
But I mean nothing. My words fall on deaf ears. And the more they fall the more cruel they become... and I am not what I once was.
I was my greatest sacrifice...
To your alter of lies and rehearsed regret.
And you tell me I can't leave you... and I think, maybe there's only one way out.