I AM TIRED OF BEING NICE

I am tired. Usually in a “life has sapped itself out” But that isn’t what this is about. I. Am. Tired. Of my stupid styrofoam smile Squeaking under pressure all the while. I am tired. Of being walkedranmoppedraked overthroughon. And of being treated as dumb spawn or clueless pawn. I am calm, patient, quiet, KIND. In the midst of grossness others spew against and on my mind. However. My still hand does NOT mean That I don’t find your way of existing obscene. I may not lift my finger, But damn does wavering will barely linger. I am so tired of tulips and fields and eggshells. I am ready for mortars, more ammo, some bombshells. I am so tired of being the go-to-friend. You know I’ll be there in the end. I am so tired of “can I, may I, if it’s not too much” After a while, doesn’t tired become the crutch? Tired, exhausted, drained, and used. Perhaps from the next I must recuse Myself not because interests conflicted, But rather because you don’t deserve a finger lifted. I am so tired of being my warmth of fiery nice. I’m so tempted to just let it all go. Be discompassionate ice.