The Shelves

I have this neat little system,

That keeps me cool calm and collected,

I put my feelings in a bottle,

Study the feeling and if it's bad,

I never bottle another one like it,

But when it come to dealing with you,

It's a whole other story,

And I'm sick of all the feelings,

This wretched loop puts me through,

The sickening guilt that I hurt you,

The anger I feel everytime you bring it back up,

The discomfort of feeling like I owe you an ear,

The funny feeling of being controlled,

The care and love I've gained being a best friend,

I've mentioned them all to you,

And I've got the feeling you don't even care,

So I bottle them up and put 'em on the big shelves,

Funny how many mixtures you can make me have,

So, so many of them that finally you've done the impossible,

My shelves are full,

And till I clear them off,

Until I can clear my mind,

Until you can stop making the crazy concoctions,

You and I won't hear a word from each other.

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