I'm the author the story on my arm
I'm addicted to bad relationships
Pity the wrong people
Seek the attention of those that don't seek mine and even with all of that
I still make time to hate myself
Moving on isn't a gift I posses
Offer me your helping hand and I will refuse to let go
Don't reject me when I cry
I would risk breaking my knees before letting  any of your tears hit the floor
It's funny ... I have the privilege of having two legs but I can't seem to stand alone
I remember your smile
The glow of your eyes
The way you tightened your jaw when you were thinking
... I don't even think you remember my last name
I lack your love and live in the past where it was present
I pray the future has something better in store for me but
Sometimes I fear I won't be around long enough to see it unfold
You told me "I am myself now"
I envy your knowledge of that
I'm still the same bitter person you made me
I am the author of the story on my arm the saddest part is... You were my inspiration
And I wrote the story with permanent marker