Composure's For Suckers

Fr
ag
me
nt
s

.

I'm a:

Fr ag me nt ed
little girl with a heart of glass.

You're a:

Fasttalkingweatherman
with a heart of pyrite.

(I should have been a lawyer.
But you should have been a scientist.)

.

You thought you were done stealing hearts until you met me.
I thought I was done being a fool until I met you.

.

You asked me for my name, and I gave you a fake name,
So when I asked where you were from, you told me from hell.

It was war from the very start.

Love to you was running your jagged nails down the side of my face,
And love to me was a list of chemical imbalances accidentally leading to a good feeling.

I won that battle,
because I know for a fact you were hurt more than I was.

Pain to you was rusty nails and bloody noses and smiles with crooked teeth.
Pain to me was chemical imbalances accidentally leading to a good feeling.

You won that battle,
because I don't have crooked teeth, or a bloody nose, or rusty nails for food.

.

You called me your sunshine girl,
because you hate the sun.
(you forgot you needed it to live.)

I called you my air,
because I hate life.
(but I keep breathing anyway.)

.

And in the end,
I wasn't fragmented anymore.

I was

b
r o k e
n

And in the end,
you weren't a weatherman anymore.

Because
the broadcast one day
was
sunny skies
with a chance of clouds
and the
chance wasn't
big enough

.

s
tn
em
ga
rF