22 On 16

5 minutes. You get 5 minutes of my time.

22, more like 16,
childish curfews, she doesn’t get what I mean,
I made her gifts, I put in an ounce of soul,
She doesn’t thank me, her lack of words take its toll,
I’m fascinated by her simplicity, by her claims of an elevated IQ,
Does she understand nuances, implications? My doubt is true,
My mixtape unappreciated, my efforts entirely expected,
When you’re spoiled, feeling gratitude gets neglected,
It’s not her fault, nor is it mine,
She downs text messages, I down wine,
Do I tell you what’s wrong? Do I give you hints?
Or of the shower of life, of you I rinse…

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