Fuck It.

Fuck You.

This one is not for the blues,

and it’s not for what I lose.

And Fuck Him.
This was not what I meant to happen,
And it’s not my fault he fails to listen.

Fuck Me.
For ever thinking that this could be,
Something that might set me free.

I knew that this would not work out,
And I knew that there was a doubt,
In the back of both of our minds,
About what we would find,
In this exploration of each other,
And the avoidance of my brother,
Who warned me about you,
And the things that you have been known to do.
I felt it in my heart,
That something would end up tearing us apart,
But I lied to myself,
In hopes that I would find a wealth,
Of love and support,
And a cause that neither one of us would want to abort,
Because this life we live is too short to be wasted,
And excitement in a budding relationship is something to be tasted,
And enjoyed,
But most of all employed,
For the good of both of us,
And to build something that is based on trust.

But I don’t trust you.
It’s true.
And I hate the things you do.
I hate that you don’t listen,
And I hate that you attempt to solve all problems with kissing.
You don’t seem to see consequence,
And you can’t seem to repense any actions you take,
And the way that you fake an attachment to me,
When it’s so clear to see,
That I am inconsequential,
And that this is a game for you,
And just a part of what you do.

So Fuck You.
And Fuck Me.
And Fuck Everything This Might Be.