It sucks being a last choice.
It sucks even more when you realize what you are.
But still.
I’d rather be needed, than wanted. I guess.
Such a wonderful life.
She’s up and left, he’s gone and found a wife.
Sick and alone, laying on my bathroom floor.
What am I staring at pictures of you for?
Stop calling, mind your business
Don’t coax me with words of forgiveness
Did I miss you? Do I want you?
Should I beg, on my knees, say I need you?
You’re calling, barely screaming
Banging on my door, yelling, pleading
Words thrown against the floor, don’t convince me
Treat my life like a commodity
When I’ve never been a necessity.
