I'm fed up. Why am I not treated like a queen?
I feel so left out. Why am I not treated special when I'm committed.
It's like I'm the side order, or just another.
Gets me so sick, I choke on madness and pain.
But they wouldn't care.

I thought you were mine, you said it. I thought I was the one.
Guess I'm not.
Why do I have to be the hidden one no one knows about?
I can't be known?
You said you loved me, that was a pure lie.
I feel betrayed, hurt, replaced, used, abused, embarrassed in front of my own family.
I was trying to prove them wrong, when all along they were right.
Now the anger is in me.

I want to cry till my eyes can't shed another tear. I have the urge to cut.
I want to hurt, I want to feel pain.
I just want to be loved till I know it's really real.
Everything once told was a lie.
They use me then throw me.
Cheat on me then lie to me.
I don't see the results till I feel it. The question is,
Why can't I be loved?

I can't deal with liars. This is journey is rough enough,
it's hard to move on.
Everything that was once did, all fake.
I'm always the faithful one, trusting, good, sweet.
I try to be there in hard times,
But they use me for granted.
They shouldn't deserve good, they need to go to hell.
Pure hell.

And burn.

Excuse me if I'm annoying. I just love you. That's all.

I'm so use to pain,
It's like a dealer use to drugs.
Swallow yourself with hatred words,
Like you'd do with pills.
Inject sorrow like narcotics.
Snort the heartbreak,
As if it's coke.
Take breaths of depression and exhale them.
Drink your tears as if alcohol.
Pain is a addictive drug.
Once you're hook, you're use to it.
It hurts once in a while, but that's how all drugs are.

No matter how much you plea and cry,
The memories will not appear back.
The heart wrenched days and the guilt trip days were good.
The soft peck days and the love set days were also a treasure.
Memories run for a reason.
Not to get away, but to stay longer.
The more you think the more you cry.
Memories cherish every ounce of feeling.
You can feel them with your own fingertips.
Some people like to sway from memories.
Other try to recount it.
It's like a spin cycle.
Your memories hold the gold that rest in you brain.
Don't deny or hate it.
It's life.
Memories are faster than the speed of light.

Dolphins, black tights, sombrero,
The red lipstick stain on your napkin.
Dancing on the table, high in the navy blue air, bass grinding.
Shiny white teeth, swirls in your eyes, lines everywhere.
You pull those suspenders close to you.
Drinking that moscato in your right hand.
Pinkie up.
Nothing but a boss in that chair,
Turtles touch your feet,
Nothing but in your boxers that Saturday evening.
I really don't care what you smell like.
You remind me of careless unicorns in a dark party.
Growing, laughing, crying, singing in the shower.
Music bleeding through your body.
Sadness, tears, curled up in the warmth of the cool blankets.
This is what flies in my head, I throw it on a paper and call it poetry.

I'm walking away from where I started.
I'm dropping behind the nest and moving on.
I'm taking a foot further and experiencing.
I'm leaping towards the light.
I despise this new comfort zone,
But I have to do it.
When you step out of the darkness, there's light beaming on your soul.
Make that change,
Even if it hurts you and the ones you love.