You Won't Read

You won't read this.
You won't even know it's there.
You'll remain oblivious,
wrapped in your mind,
unaware of the outside world.

I'm tired of the pain thrust upon me.
I know my flaws, don't read them to me.
Don't sit there and search for something to hate.
I'm tired of feeling like a child in your eyes.
I'm tired of you being "so much more mature" than me.
I'm fed up with hearing
the word "paranoia".
I know my flaws, don't thrust them in my face.

You wouldn't like the tables turned.
You wouldn't like to feel
constantly crazy,
a lost cause that needs to be patched.
You don't need me?
Well I don't need you.
I lived without you,
I can do it again.
And more than likely
will have to
sooner or later.

So do what you want.
I'm getting out
before it's too late.
If it's not already too late.
I'll rip the ties that bind.
I'm not getting hurt again.
I feel like I'm sinking
deeper and deeper.
I don't want to slide beneath the surface.
Before it's too late, I'm getting out.

But you won't know.
You won't read this,
or even know that it's there.
And if you did read it...
you probably wouldn't take it seriously
anyway.

__________________
But I know the difference between myself and my reflection.
I just can't help but to wonder which of us do you love?