I tell myself if I do this one thing for you — just one more;
I can captue your love forever and always be yours.
But then I say the wrong thing. I’m a fuck-up and it’s all my fault.
I should aim to do better. Learn to do as you taught.
Your masochistic love is a needle in my skin.
It urges me to hurt more and more, and to you not sin.
And each day as it gets harder to breathe or to even feel —
Your words assure to me that this will never be real.
You needed some clay to mold and you chose lucky me.
To move around and reshape til I am what you want me to be.
And now looking in the mirror and inside myself; deep within —
I don’t recognize the girl staring back who’s heart you said you’d mend.
This urgent need to please is becoming somewhat old.
I am tired of being your student, tired of what you’ve told.
I’ll find a way to gather the shattered pieces of my heart,
Realize that the pain I feel will be less when we’re apart;
When my heart is strong enough to see through all your lies,
The girl in the mirror will change form and say her goodbyes.
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