You’re lies sink to the center of my bones, the funny thing is that it wasn’t supposed to hurt, I didn’t expect it to, but here we are. Playing with headless dolls, toying with emotions I am not to be strung a long like fish caught on a hook. Stuck in a net of your notions on right and wrong, you barely know the surface of morality. You lie too many times for little reasons. Building cardboard castles that look so real, I saw that all that glitter wasn’t gold from miles away yet somehow I found myself drawn in by choice, waiting and wanting to explore this new territory.
I’m feeling cold, giving me ultimatums like I have no choice, you didn’t write the script to my life, so don’t expect to edit it along the way, don’t find yourself knocking at my door with a take it or leave it deal. Don’t find yourself showing me new plans with right colors and perfect views. I’m not your play book, nor am I a play ground so don’t compare my see-saw’s to her’s, my slides are too high and sand pits too deep. If you’re not willing to stand in them completely and watch yourself sink like you’re in quicksand, trusting me enough to know I’d never let you drown within your insecurities, then don’t come playing on these grounds, don’t stand along the edges of my fence throwing nasty words and holy water. These grounds will only burn to be born again like a Phoenix.
I’m feeling hurt. trust is earned, not bought or dangled around like bait. So don’t tell me about how you don’t like that picture I uploaded last week onto my profile, or how you didn’t like the hug I gave to so and so, last time I checked. This body was mine, these actions and thoughts I have full control of. So spare me the details of a past life and events I never partook in. don’t tell me about her and what you had or how I own a piece of your shriveled heart. I don’t want it nor do I need it. I just find joy in attempting to fix the broken, so pardon my mistaking you for clay and wanting to mold you. You’ve been used my so many times despite the fact that that you think you’re the one pulling the strings.
I used to feel sorry for you, walking around with a heavy burden, emotional blackmail isn’t a weakness in me, so don’t tell me about you jealousies, and *fetishes. Don’t try to right your wrong with my wrong, don’t shove your issues in my face, telling me about qualities you posses, and experiences you’ve endured. At some point we all realize that this life we live is just a dream in another life, and sometimes when we get lucky those dreams are lucid. We have choices, you should see this, and my plot is not so predictable after all. So quit visiting me with the skeletons from the closets of all your past houses. Keep your monsters hidden under you bed that lies stained with memories and blended scents of different chapters of your catalog; I will not be a statistic to its wet spot section, so don’t place me on the cover, its not us just you and me. not we, no emotional blackmail, you can have all the chips from this poker game. I’m leaving intact. Going back to my skeletons, monsters and spiders, that will greet me with smiles and hugs, a peaceful night and a web spun beautifully on my ceiling with name and “welcome back home” right below it.