You don’t get to be perfect.
You don’t get to make me feel like I have everything right before it’s gone.
You don’t get to take away everything that I’ve held on to, everything I’ve made stay.
You don’t get to say that it’ll all be ok.
You don’t get to make promises that you have no intention of keeping,
promises that you’ve probably made before.
You don’t get to change what you’re looking for just because you found what you were.
You don’t get to tell what I’m thinking.
See through me like glass.
You don’t get to hear my thoughts,
and you don’t get to laugh.
You don’t get to make my heart race by texting “haha yeah”.
You don’t get to come back to me after leaving me on my a**.
I wish I could tell you these things,
tell you how I feel.
But no matter the rules I set for you,
you find a way to make me kneel.
But I can’t hate and love you.
I can’t sit around and wait.
I can’t tell you what I want if you’re always running late.
So you don’t get to be perfect.
You don’t get to be it all.
Because no matter how I plant my feet,
I always seem to fall.