I don’t want to be the punching bag fo your disappointments and frustration,

I’m tired of holding up your ladder so you can sit on your pedestal,

And I don’t want part of your half empty cup of this lie that you mold,

Because your bickering about everything is just getting too old,

I don’t want to be the fuse that holds the light of your candle,

I’m tired of mending your broken ego after something you can’t handle,

I don’t want to tbe the air in your balloon that you hold up to reach the sky,

Because your hero stories are all lies,

I’m tired of holding your book up for you when you don’t remember the words,

Of making you look like a story of success when in reality you don’t know what you’re successful of,

Where there used to be a fine line that held us together, it is there no more, as I cut that chord.

-Rona Aying Llanos