Leaving words like graffiti on my hands, I've grown tired of it. I'm tired of your snarky comments, your back-handed compliments, and most of all, I'm tired of you.
There's always a time when you bounce away and then crawl back in, and each time I let yo
(more)u back and back and-well, back again. Someday it'll stop. I'll turn and say, "hey, hasn't it been long enough for you to start cleaning up after your attitude?" (or 'crap', if I swore). Stop marking my hands. Stop ruining my day. Eventually, something will come and make sure you know how it feels.
(Even if that something is me.)
No pity. You better get going-you're late. (less)
