Cruel

I’m sorry I don’t want to spend the wee hours of the night talking about your problems
Or happiness
I’ve got my own stuff to keep me up late
And if this means I’m absolutely terrible
It’s not my fault
I’m only terrible to terrible people

So, you can stop insisting that we hang out
To talk
And catch up
Because I don’t want to
I have no desire to listen to anything you have to say
To hear you gloat about your lucky dalliances
Or world travels
Or to hear you complain about how stuck you feel
In life
And love
And your career

I don’t want to hold on to your leash anymore
Guide you here and there
Tell you it’s going to be okay
Or congratulate you on what little successes you achieve
I don’t care

I know that this makes me somewhat cruel
There’s a little bit of judgment here too
I mean, who am I to say you’re terrible, anyway?
What’s so far up my ass to make me this uptight and angry?
Maybe I’m just too old now
And cranky
Or maybe I’m just sick and tired of you

I’ll pray.