deepundergroundpoetry.com

An Arms Race

Why can't I be mad,

that I didn't get the childhood that you had?

I can't be tough.

Everything I've done for you isn't enough.

It pains me

that the blood I've bled stains you.

I'm a disgrace to you,

and I hate to break it to you,

but this isn't an arms race.

You decieve me.

Then you leave me.

And you expect me to believe you

When you say that you're through

With all the games that I'm so used to.

I can't be of use to you!

I'm amused,

when I'm accused that

the trust you gave me was abused.

What trust?

My heart's about to combust!

You're not a mom,

You're more like a bomb.

You blow up everything good in my life,

then you leave with 3 final words that cut through me like a butter knife.

"I love you."

How can you when you're sick of me?

I needed a mother,

but you were just like any other.
Written by MissyLinette
Published
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