You wanted me
to be there for you.
but you used me as a dump,
to put your shit inside.
and instead of asking why I cried,
you played the ‘what about me’ card,
what about me?
when we drank litres of alcohol,
destroyed our friendship because you wanted some,
you went around using your dick,
like you had no brain to actually think,
you complain that she is just the same
then run off with her anyway
and I hate to know that in a few years more
you’ll probably have a child
and all the time
you’ll be sat there
whilst shes swaying the bundle all on her own
and you’ll be thinking
‘what about me’
what about me
what about the people in and out your life
such a shitty way to be
but I guess we’re over
and its nothing to do with me.