No amount of Skittles or
Swedish Fish or Starbucks
on me could compensate
for your time and patience.

I think I’ve crossed a line.
I think I’ve asked too much,
and I feel like I owe you for
simply not being a dick to me.

God, what’s wrong with me?
I think I deserve so little that
you should be a real ass to me,
and I’m thrilled you haven’t.

In fact, I expect you don’t know
that I’ve offered you more than
what I’ve already given, but I’ll
come through with it anyway,

‘cause my debt cannot be repaid.
Nothing I can do can make up for
my pulling you back over and over
into my self-induced personal hell.

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