Mascara

My heart isn't a lavatory seat for you to take a dump on My soul isn't a lemon, For you to squeeze the last few drops -from. My feelings count, they matter, And whatever I do or say is wrong. So I'm a square peg in a round hole, here I'm not alone. At least I am consistent, minute-to-minute. Hour upon hour, year after year When I say I love you, I mean it dear. I wasn't shouting 'Whatever' in some heartless mascara. I wasn't acting out of character, all -soppy and weird. I don't come running with tears and tantrums. With vacuous promises, I'll change, change for the better. Time and time again, all I have in my pocket is loose change. I've fought a few battles, and gone far too many rounds. You've floored me to the canvas And knocked me out for the count. But this time I'm staying down; I'm leaving the ring. And whatever belt, crown, or trophy fits you best, Please wear it proudly. I know when I have been beaten, the victory is yours. Have the house, the kids, and even your last vitriolic words.