It wasn't my limit,
of course I did care.
But there are things that I, too, want.
I've always helped others,
they are my friends in need.
But you were never there.
Life is so fragile,
I talked them through their pain.
Even through my weariness, my problems,
even as they began to complain.
I will be your shoulder,
but please use the other,
because this one's starting to hurt.
Why do you spit on me when I don't have the time,
or when I just want to do it the other way?
"Cold hearted bitch,"
she would always say,
"You only care for yourself."
Fine! Whatever, I no longer care.
I'm just tired of being your shelf.
Put your books away;
your problems somewhere else.