The actions are uncertain
I post all the past compliments in response
So maybe you would remember
How to say something nice
But you look at me confused
Or upset
Frustration becomes your sword
I am left holding your intolerance
And being told to be thankful
For this is the only gift I am ever worth
Less is me
You settle on the idea
I am never going to amount to your overflowing expectations
Drowning within words and uncertainty
I try to bury your words
But find their graves are within me
So now I have to exhume each scar, every word
Leaving me vague
Redefining my outline
Recreating my language
The actions are uncertain


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