Repetitious thoughts would be different if
I was your girl. You had to
make yourself known or you'd be invisible.
I swear.
What is the fuss over?
Now that I am giving time,
you act like you are doing me a favor.
What makes you so different from them?
All it is flattery . . .
Lies . . .
You just want bragging rights.
Great . . .
Another misusing me.
I have went through trouble
of opening myself, trusting.
Accepting faults
dealing with short comings.
underneath your present mask,
another one . . .
When will the good hearted
and genuine rescue me?
Maybe this is my curse
of beauty.
