You're Right, I'm Yours (But You Are Not Mine)

I am a joke.

i am nothing more than a jester; a fool. my “friends”

they’re the kings and queen i’m appointed to.

i am not someone to be taken seriously.

i am merely something to used, then thrown away once i stop being fun.

it’s not something i like, or something choose for myself, but trying to change would be futile and silly.

i was not made to be loved deeply, just when you need a buzz, or when no one else is picking up the phone. you know i’m available.

i wish i were someone you want to be with, someone you can see yourself being with for a long time. someone that needs to be handled with care. i’m not even a person you could see yourself being alone with for a hour.

it’s okay to make fun of me, it’s not like i have feelings, toys don’t have them.

treat how you think i should be treated, you’re right. i am yours. you don’t have to worry about me getting mad or sad, like i said, i'm a toy.

you don’t have to worry about me leaving you, or me overstaying my welcome. just call me when you’re ready, and shoo me away when you’re done. no lip. no emotions.

see, without this job as jester, i would be completely useless.

i could fade away and no one would blink an eye. but see now if i cease to exist, you notice something odd, not anything big, but a thought would cross your mind like, “...something is missing”.

not that you would act on this feeling, you’d shrug and brush the feeling aside and go back to being a person with value.

take me, break me, throw me away. i am yours, but you are not mine, you never will be.