Pathetic

It starts with being alone.

I sit with no one to talk to,

There's always an option.

I'm not close to any of them,

I can't say anything.

Or rather,

I don't want to.

Then you creep in my head soon after.

I can tell you anything.

Cowardly,

If I get tired or annoyed I can press a button and you're out of my life.

I don't have to hear you.

But I don't have the courage to tell you anything.

The anger comes soon after.

It's my fault.

No,

It's your fault.

You're fault for just being there,

For staying there,

Deep in my mind.

You stay planted there,

Like a weed that won't go away no matter what.

You sit there,

Not bringing me good or bad.

I'm becoming of tired of waiting for a flower,

But I don't know how to plant my own garden.

You stay in my mind.

Then I wonder soon after.

Be happy with her.

Just because I'm not doesn't mean you shouldn't be.

I got to the point where I should leave you alone,

You've already found someone else that shares love with you.

But I linger as well,

Even more of a weed to you

In your garden of roses and irises.

Then the scenarios start soon after.

You kiss her hand,

And she laughs.

You kiss her forehead and nose,

And she steals one on your lips.

She touches your chest now and you hold her tight

As you start to take off her dress now.

It's all in my head,

The two of you fooling around.

It's all on the bed,

The two of you loving each other.

As you give yourself to her,

And she gives herself to you.

Night after night,

Day after day.

It drives me crazy,

And I can't seem to get rid of this aching thought.

The one thing that makes me so alive is the thing killing me.

I feel it.

It's been days since I've had sleep because I dream of her lips on your cheek.

I wish I knew what was on your mind whenever we talk.

Whenever you call me cutie.

Whenever you tell me about her.

Then the regret comes soon after.

Is it wrong for me to feel bad,

When you're doing good,

Which is all I want from you?

To be happy,

To love and be loved.

I should've done this differently . . .

Should've told you something different . . .

I look at my personal mess I've made up,

Not enough pride to pin it on you.

Then the depression comes.

I miss those days.

I was always happy,

I was always cared about and loved.

I was always secure without a care in the world.

Memories flood into my empty head

Of the time when I loved you more than I could ever scream.

When you couldn't hug me tight enough.

We don't talk like we used to.

I miss that.

We're not the same as we used to be.

It's not you,

It's me.

I've changed into a person I don't even know anymore.

I can't tell her reflection in the mirror.

The mask she wears to hide the monster is starting to slip.

I feel useless,

Wasted,

Hopeless,

Forgotten.

I commit to memory;

It isn't the kind of feeling you ever forget.

Because there's nothing worse than being the third wheel;

Not used or cared.

Then the music comes soon after.

I crank up the volume and sit in my room,

The music up so loud so no one can hear me.

I have a song for everything.

My music will say more about me than my mouth ever will.

I listen to my thoughts,

To my feelings,

To my world being shouted at me.

All of it's pitiful,

How much self-pity and naïveté's I can have.

Then the feeling of loneliness comes soon after.