Life Beneath The Words At Play

Man or child?

Tired.

I'm tired.

I'm just so tired.

Tired of the games we play.

The things you say.

You promised me a trip to Paradise but ended up leaving me behind.

Maybe if you told me the truth, we could have prevented the destruction.

You said you were a hero, but you saved no one.

Only drowned yourself.

Drowning in debt.

Debt that you made me pay for my own pain.

Pain you inflicted on me for no reason.

Unwarranted.

Unwanted agony.

You only wanted me to prove you were superior.

Inferior power, but you never understood the limits.

Humbled.

Crumbling your ego.

Limits that you crossed because the line between us was nonexistent.

Maybe if I drew the line with crayons, you'd understand since you like to color with the kids instead of dating people your own age.

Even if you did try to entertain the adults, they'd only send you back to the little kids' table since you act the same as they do.

Your level of maturity seems to be ever diminishing.

But maybe if I slapped a golden star on your heart, you'd feel better for your behavior.

Positive reinforcement for a child that otherwise wouldn't understand what no meant because they've been so spoiled that they think yes can come in a form of no and there's no meaning to don't.

If I only treated you as you deserve. To kiss your bleeding paper cut and wrap a cartoon bandaid on top of it, you'd feel loved.

I'm not saying you did something wrong.

I'm saying you're doing it all wrong right now.

I'm saying your opinions are invalid from your skewed and ravaged mind.

I'm tired of you, man-child.

Maybe the next person who picks you up from kindergarten will give you a bottle and cradle your crocodile tears and give you back your teddy bear.

I'm tired of your insincere love.

I'm tired of you.

That's why I left you.

Left you for man half your age but twice your maturity.

Maybe if I left sooner, I'd feel taller and just a little smarter now that I'm no longer joining you at the table with printed out color by number pages.

But I'm just a girl.

A girl, the same age as a daughter who calls you father.

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I have been listening a lot to Billie Eilish lately after she released her latest album, Hit me hard and soft, and I started getting into her music. Her song Your Power really inspired the concept for the poem, and then the way I wrote it was inspired by a few other songs from her older albums. Also, I feel like this poem is pretty comical. Don't necessarily take it too seriously.

Hope I got the message across.

Have a good day or night :)