the truth can’t handle me.
beauty is a curse.
where are my true friends?
i am used to this.
are you playing the game?
pretend to be my friend.
give me a nickname.
i’m so interesting.
this is what you say.
talk to me all day.
eventually it comes.
confessions spilling out.
mudslide down the hill.
water from a spout.
you are not my friend.
you look out for yourself.
you want to sleep with me?
we hardly know each other.
i thought we could go hike.
grab lunch because its nice.
but now all you can say
“is sex on the way?”
no. it’s IN the way.
i don’t have any friends.
beauty is a curse.
can i trust a soul?
seems that’s all they want.
i am so much more.
when will i be free?
i cannot complain.
at least that’s what they say.
“you have a sexy body.”
i have a sexy brain.
my feelings mean zilch?
is someone listening?
i am used to this.
confess now, i insist.
don’t lie or i’ll persist.
i can handle truth.
but the truth can’t handle me.
get your hands off, please.
ask me how i am.
hold a conversation.
inspire me to smile.
let me be human.
i am not some god.
treat me like an equal.
nothing more, nothing less.
you can’t have my booty.
you can’t have my breasts.
and i will still be lonely
once i’m out with this.
people will ignore me
because i don’t exist.
i am just some body.
my feelings are worthless.
that is just your loss.
you don’t know what you miss.
i have more much more inside me
than you could ever give.
you are just another
loser on my list.
i run out of fingers.
dealt my fair share of favors.
nothing in return.
i think you’re just another.
you can’t hide from me.
and i may be lonely.
but i am always free
because the truth can’t handle me.