Hey Mister

See, he never called her pretty. He never told her that he couldn't live without her. He never asked to see how her day went. He never told her how happy he made her feel.

He didn't like her outfits, her belly, her hands.
He didn't like the way she sounded so corny, so mushy.
He didn't like the way she brushed her teeth or the way she was picky about food.
He didn't like it when her hair was down all the time.
He didn't like the way she complimented him on things.
He didn't like the way she thought of him as full of potential.

But he liked her.
Or at least he said he did.
No, wait. He never really said that either.

He just talked.
Rambled.
Messed with her mind.
Until he got what he wanted.
And then she asked for more.
Like love.
And he was wary to give it to her.
But, finally he gave in, probably more out of annoyance than anything.
And for a while there, they pretended to be in love.

Until one night, he fumbled.
And she saw through, but wouldn't make herself believe
that this man was a boy. Just a boy.

She held on.
but he threw her down.
He needed to be alone.
With his buddies.
Yep, with his buddies, alone.

And then she left him alone,
and then he screwed around with someone else's head
and left her to shrivel up and die.

And he thinks she's stupid and fake for being bitter.
For making him think that maybe she was a bit pretty,
that maybe her clothes were not too bad
that maybe she did have a mind of her own
that maybe she was not always patient and kind, but she tried.

In his head, this one mistake of her feeling betrayed
and being bitter about it.
That was her downfall.
That made her unworthy of him.

Well, to tell you the truth,
I think he pretty much convinced her she was worthless as shit.

And now he hates her for acting like one.

Hey mister, you just can't drive away, pointing a finger at her.
Well, I guess you can. That's what you've always done.
Pointed fingers at their faults.

And you're perfect, right? You're very ethical, and very honest, and very much the man that your sister would be proud of.

Grow up.

No one's perfect. She was bitter. She admitted it.
Didn't you listen? Or were you just too wrapped up in the mind games you played with yourself to care.

Bitch about her. Wish her dead. But don't go judging her actions without knowing her side of it.

I always gave you the benefit of the doubt, even when you fucked up pretty bad.