I sold myself to him-
perfectly packaged and yet he continued to return me
just like the one before and the one before that.
I thought that second hand was never enough,
I thought that hand me downs were never enough.
I knew that if he wanted reality than he would dig through the garbage and lift up the floor and recycle whats left of all the broken pieces of the women he has shattered before.
I would not be swept under the rug.
So I've been composed and kind, smiling, laughing, and understanding, strong, articulate, peaceful and protecting- indifferent to every other man in this world but him.
I've kept my mouth shut, my eyes closed, my hands tied but my ears open to the same song he sings day in and day out-
I've watched him bleed himself to death through a song fallen on deaf ears,
I've watched people nod their heads though no one really hears.
I had faith in him.
Maybe that makes me ignorant.
Or maybe it makes me angry.
And he thinks that I have this view of him, this glorified view of him this naive and exaggerated view of him-
but its all I can do to not take him and shake him and scream that all I have ever seen was his potential.
I watched him displace his passion on the wrong ears the wrong faces the wrong times the wrong places-
And time and time again I've watched him justify his own misuse of people and himself,
I've watched him take just enough and put back on the shelf whats left of anyone who has ever made the mistake of loving him-
In one way or another.
There is no greater abuse of power.
I tried to nurture him and he stripped me.
I tried to reach out but pride hit me again and again and again with the truth.
The truth is: I've never hung him out to dry.
(The truth is easy to deny)
The truth is: Hes every man to me- another disease that paralyzes the heart of every woman
and again
The truth is: It's all ready been said before, "I've given you all and now I'm nothing."
What am I fighting for?
perfectly packaged and yet he continued to return me
just like the one before and the one before that.
I thought that second hand was never enough,
I thought that hand me downs were never enough.
I knew that if he wanted reality than he would dig through the garbage and lift up the floor and recycle whats left of all the broken pieces of the women he has shattered before.
I would not be swept under the rug.
So I've been composed and kind, smiling, laughing, and understanding, strong, articulate, peaceful and protecting- indifferent to every other man in this world but him.
I've kept my mouth shut, my eyes closed, my hands tied but my ears open to the same song he sings day in and day out-
I've watched him bleed himself to death through a song fallen on deaf ears,
I've watched people nod their heads though no one really hears.
I had faith in him.
Maybe that makes me ignorant.
Or maybe it makes me angry.
And he thinks that I have this view of him, this glorified view of him this naive and exaggerated view of him-
but its all I can do to not take him and shake him and scream that all I have ever seen was his potential.
I watched him displace his passion on the wrong ears the wrong faces the wrong times the wrong places-
And time and time again I've watched him justify his own misuse of people and himself,
I've watched him take just enough and put back on the shelf whats left of anyone who has ever made the mistake of loving him-
In one way or another.
There is no greater abuse of power.
I tried to nurture him and he stripped me.
I tried to reach out but pride hit me again and again and again with the truth.
The truth is: I've never hung him out to dry.
(The truth is easy to deny)
The truth is: Hes every man to me- another disease that paralyzes the heart of every woman
and again
The truth is: It's all ready been said before, "I've given you all and now I'm nothing."
What am I fighting for?
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