this is not another woe is me,
and this is not a lasting emotion,
this is for all the times you stared at me,
and all the times you lied to my face,
how many times can you reassure yourself that you are better off?
how many times do you lie to yourself?
and why would you want to become what you have always hated?
only two of these questions have an answer,
and none of them ever have crossed your mind,
i'm sure,
i almost wish that i could fall apart like you want me to,
but i can't,
because i am far too strong and far too smart,
to fall for your little charades and promiscuity,
i used to think that you never saw these words,
but now i caught on,
and now i know you can feel this,
i shall always admit that you broke my heart,
and that i never have loved another like i loved you,
but these words here,
on this page,
are not in your honor,
they are in your memory,
so just for your amusement i shall put it like this,
yes, you have/are/and will be my muse,
but you'll never reap the rewards or noteriety that my writing brings,
for you did have the best of me once before,
but ever since your fingers touched his lips,
you will only see the best of me from the ground,
as i am held in higher regard than you could ever imagine,
and hopefully,
you'll never truely realize who and what i have become,
for if you ever do see me for who i am now,
your bitter eyes shall weep til the day you die!
 
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