I really needed to rant. Obviously, it appeared in the form of poetry. Enjoy! :)

Fuck You

I know you care, because

you've shown me that you do.

In the past, that is.

You say you do, and you've never

really betrayed my trust before...

But you don't listen to a single

word that comes out of my mouth.

Unless I'm comforting you about

your next stupid, exaggerated

complaint about whatever.

You play your stupid video games

with your stupid friends, and

then you whine about getting

no work done.

How do you expect to?

The same issues every single

day. Why you never take my

solicited advice, I have no idea.

But when I have a problem,

when I have my own issue...

You go all fucking philosophical

on me. Essentially telling me

I'm wrong, insulting me,

not comforting me at all.

And then you call me "sweetie."

You have a handy little knack

for making me feel horrible.

Sometimes stupid, sometimes guilty.

You know me well enough to

realize when I'm upset.

But you don't do anything.

You let it eat me alive.

Oh, but when I leave you alone

for one day, for one

fucking day,

I become the person who

makes you want to die.

Draining me. That's what

you're doing. And all I do

is help you. Love you.

And you know what really

pisses me off? I'm actually

writing this poem with a pen

you gave me. Well guess what?

Fuck you.

That's what.

So why do I—

do I?—

still love you?

Who fucking knows.