When will you learn?

Even as I pick the glitter

To get it out of my hair,

The feelings left are bitter,

How can this be fair?

I spend my time counting

All the small pieces

Putting them in order

Leaving no creases.

If I recount your words,

Perhaps it’ll make sense

But you’re too complex

And I’m too dense.

Next time I open an envelope

Registered from you,

I’ll be prepared for the glitter

I’ll be done through and through.

I hope you know,

I’ll never be like you,

And I won’t use glitter

to prove a point too.