Just once, I'd like for you to comprehend I'm not trying to hurt you.
Time after time, I feel we have this conversation, but the message just never seeps through.
~
Fuck you don't mean fuck off, but fuck off means fuck this—
Yell at me, scream at me, in the end, it's always the same question: Are we gonna make up or fucking reminisce?
~
I'm an adult, when are you gonna grow up and learn?
I've been doing this shit longer than you, stop schooling me with that attitude of yours you think is so goddamn stern.
~
I admit when I'm wrong, but I also let you give it to me—fuck it, I can take it.
I'm used to the blame, I carry the weight, I've grown so thick a skin now, I can easily shake it.
~
My wrong, my fault, too headstrong, thunderbolt; where does it end?
You start these arguments, you fire off, give it your all—do you even think twice before you send?
~
Yet I still stand by you, I let you come back in the end because somehow you're worth it—I'm going out of my fucking mind,
You're a bitch, you're a Queen, of the drama-related kind,
~
What I do I do for me, I make my own choices, fuck you if you don't approve,
Take it up with me and leave the innocent alone; if you can't do that, you better fucking move.
~
If our friendship is worth it, say your piece or hold your tongue forever, thanks a lot,
If not and this is the end, know that I gave you all I've fucking got.
(Now read this poem twice and know that at you, I took a shot)
