I'm Out (Modified 4/29-30/2009)

Your proclivity toward duplicity does not meet with my complicity.

I can’t and won’t deal with this turbulence—I’m seeking synchronicity.

You tell a million lies every minute—I’m sick of your multiplicity.

Don’t try to sell it cuz I ain’t buyin’—don’t even attempt to solicit to me.

Your predilection for deception is no way to gain my affection.

Though you think you’re beyond detection,

I see through you with my well-honed skills of perception

And thus no warm reception.

All you’ll face is rejection.

Are you actually in my face? Screamin’ I’ll be back, that I need you?  Oh please, Boo-Boo, how dare thee?

See, cuz the being alone thing, that's something that just don’t scare me.

Particularly when I’m such a lovely vision of prosperity whilst wrapped up in my singularity

I do believe this look works for me; I’m rockin’ it like it’s a mink.

You’re so superfluous to this equation so go ahead shoo! Off you slink.

I have but one regret, and that’s that it took me this long to wake up, to take this moment stop and think.

But I’ve got my bearings now, both feet solidly beneath me instead of teetering on the brink.

So listen closely and please take note

I have no time for you to brag and gloat

This player mentality don’t get my vote.

I don’t pander and I don’t dote

On a man who’s a boy and who just missed the boat.

So I’ll grab my keys, grab my bag and coat

And—what a minute—this is my place, you walk out the door.

Stop looking so hurt and confused, that act is such a bore.

You’ve been playing the same, tired role so long and you’re rotten to the core.

What? What’s that you say . . . you’re sorry and you want more?

Can’t do it. I’m not a naïve little girl, and I already know the score.

You’re so pitifully, painfully pathetic; you actually believe your own hype.

But it’s great for me to be able to shake it off instead of grudge and gripe.

You’ve given me pure hell, and you still expect my gratitude.

You need to rein it in and check yourself; I will give you no more latitude.

I’m finished—y’ hear me? Done. With you and your stank attitude.

See, this is all about me, and my joy you cannot rob.

I can’t rely on you for my bliss, and I won’t allow you to bring on the sobs.

I’ve learned this lesson very well – happiness is an inside job.

So I have nothing left to say to you—just a wave and a shrug and a sigh.

Oh wait, there is on last thing . . . what was it again? Oh yes


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