Messed up (inside)
Don't put your troubles on me all week,
expect me to smile despite the way you speak
especially when you turn it on and off so fast;
your moods unpredictable, stares like a slap;
I'm not sure how much longer I can last.
After all, why should I let you mess with my mind?
My sense of worth is fragile enough...
the settled safe place is now uncertain, I find.
Despite the reassurances, the niceties
I can't endure the battle of wit and sarcasm.
Too unstable an environment, atmosphere undefineable,
making me question myself beyond belief
I'd rather be anywhere else but in that moment;
hiding in the corner, trying to comprehend
how two days before you'd behaved like a friend.
Your ignorance is certainly not a pleasure.
Friction of personalities is inevitable (soon forgotten).
But if admiration is disappointed, trust lost,
it would be hard to recover the image in my head
and I'd find myself messed up like you instead.