Even if perfection existed,
You'd still find a reason to *****.
I could be love drunk,
Head over heels.
All my other priorities,
I've buried and ditched.
But if the heels aren't red bottoms,
And those rings aren't rocks.
You question the relationship,
Because I "ain't giving you ****."
Little miss,
Have me do it all,
So that you can look it all.
Instagram full of thirst traps.
I'm blocked,
So I can't see it all.
You act nice so that I buy it,
Just for another man to take it off.
Now you play the victim to your friends,
Because I've finally taken off.
It's the new generation love,
You give and you don't get.
But you're expected to keep giving,
Give parts of yourself to every girl you've ******* met.
Now you walk about empty,
Trying to find the next.
Next first love?
Or the next of yet another ex.
A poem from a fractured mind