This is a poem I wrote when I was upset one night. Maybe it is lame, maybe it makes no sense, but I still like it for some reason, so I decided to type it up and see what you thought.
I've been sent to the back-burner again
My fears and worries set aside for another's
No one cares as I boil over and scald myself
I've lost the attention of the ones who would care.
Why do I let myself be judged and appraised?
When all you do is spit me out and hate the aftertaste
You'll go to anyone else to cleanse your palate
And you set me aside and let me scald myself.
You could care less that I counted on your attention
You'd rather see me dissipate and be lost forever
You can't take the time to see that I don't go bitter
To take the time would mean you'd have to care.
You said you'd be in charge and make it all better
That you stir things in a way to balance the flavors
But you put me on the back-burner and cranked me up to high
Knowing I'd have to boil over and once again, scald myself.
You knew that on my own I'd burn and leave a stain
I'd turn to charred remains and be tossed out with the refuse
But you watched and sat back as I boiled with crazy madness
Knowing I'd soon be gone, a scald stain on the stove top.
You weren't supposed to let me burn and boil and steam like this
You made promises of helping whisk the fears away for good
Of adding flavors to erase all the bitterness I feel all day
But you broke your word and threw me out, with the trash.
Is that how you see me, as a filthy piece of trash?
Is that what you wanted, a boiled over mess?
You've managed to make me feel like a distasteful waste of life
So have your way, I'll just continue, to boil over and scald myself.