My feelings I threw into a box, too big for me.
So I created a mask, made of all the tears I've shed.
I know I know how cliche that sounds.
You asked, you asked “Are you ok?”
But you didn't want an answer.
Instead you wanted to be smiled at, and say in a plastic voice “I’m fine, you?”
Because you wanted to talk about yourself.
The feelings you had were apparently superior to mine.
Apparently I am just here as a blank slot.
To be played and then left because I ‘gave nothing’.
The time limit for you to care lasts a minute, and then you’re off.
“This ‘you’ isn't the person that we want to deal with.”
“Be happy, or we’ll stop being around you.”
“I've always been there for you!”
“Stop being so depressing.”