a plastic flower
i’m sick of waiting for something special something with half as much care and attention as i give everyone
i can’t
i can’t beg anymore for the small things
for surprises and flowers and hugs
i want
i want a card i want some effort i want a flower you picked up on the way here i want surprises and for you to care for me the way i do
i want too much
i want to be loved the way i love
instead
i get blamed for reacting to the way they make me feel
for not wanting to speak to them when i’m mad but when i tried to i always ended up at fault
i’m crazy i’m rude i’m overreacting
i always overreact
i never listen i always blame i don’t try enough i don’t love enough i don’t show my love right i’m closed off
i’m so uptight
but when i try to talk i choke or i’m silenced
i give my heart and soul and i’m left empty with a plastic flower
a plastic flower i hate almost as much as “myself”
the self i made up out of broken i’ll be theres and promises and i don’t know what to get yous empty expectations of maybe they’ll be there and the false hopes that the little white little envelopes of wishes for wellness won’t have a hidden oh god why is it your birthday again