Don't worry, love, it isn't you.
You're rarely the reason for the tears.
Don't worry, friend, it's not you either.
You're part of the reason I'm still here.
It's not the stress of every day,
It's not the things those people used to say.
It isn't just your unwillingness.
It isn't just the hesitation.
Coming home to fight and yell isn't what makes me mad.
Dreams full of violence and hate isn't what makes me sad.
It's not just you.
It's not just him.
It's not one thing, but only everything.
Sometimes, I hate that everything
The everything that makes me so upset,
But one cannot simply hate everything.
I love what makes me mad
I love what hates me
I love what makes me sad and
Sometimes I love what breaks me.
I also love the great happy things
Like walking and running and laughing and breathing.
I have to appreciate the bad horrid things
Like dying and crying and lying and hatred
It's only everything that hurts me
And I guess it's everything that I love.
But it's not just merely everything I hate
so simply put, I guess it's me.