image of discrace

poem about being played. messed around.

i have to walk away
or broken hearted is the price i'll pay
to you i'm nothing...
an image of discrace
you proved that yesterday
when you didnt show your face
to you i'm nothing..
a mere fondle in the dark..

no more am i your fool..
no longer do you have me wrapped
no more can you play you stupid games
no longer will you dance on my heart
for i, my dear, have grown to see
that its you that is nothing to me.


With the help of my friends
they know you're round the bend!
For i, my sweet, am the best catch,
better than you;
better than that slut you shagged.

so, play me, play me, all you like,
sweetie, i won the fight!
Yet here you stand infront of me
tears running down your face.
Suddenly its occured to me...
its not me
who's an image of discrace.