You speak like you know. But you don’t. You don’t know how much the world can take away from you; because the most it’s stolen is your pride and maybe a little bit of your spirit.
You take the fixable things and you break them over and over again just so you can say that you’ve been there. That you’ve been to the places the lonesome go, where the pieces struggle to find their way back whole.
You have some nerve to want to be forsaken. You have a whole lot of audacity to abandon what the rest of us are searching so desperately for, just for the sake of a little bit of poetry.
You were born under a brighter sky; but you shut out the light and you ask for rain. Misery doesn’t want your company darlin’, we just want your spot in the sun.