If you loved me,
you'd make time for me.
You'd stop asking me
to only ever
make time for you.
You criticize me
for taking care of myself.
But you have never come close.
When I cry,
you are not the one
who has ever wiped my tears.
So when the time comes,
and when I ask to leave.
It's no longer a request.
I do not care if you disapprove.
I do not care for your judgmental looks.
You
You've taken so many things
from me
that meant I was a kid.
Maturing always comes at a price.
So how much
did you have to hate yourself
to hate me this much.
