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An Old Shoe

I told you I was leaving. A true friend would be happy for me. That was three days ago. Not a word has been exchanged since. I'm only good for you if I stay and depend on you. I don't understand, maybe I was wrong to think that you weren't like the rest of them. Bruised pride is all I've gotten in return for accepting your generosity. I don't want that anymore. I want to be free of this, free of feeling I owe you my surrender for all that you have done for me. When I no longer fulfill your void of loneliness, you cast me aside like an old shoe. It's been done to me before. What good would come of staying? Nothing. So, turn your back on me, treat me like something that just happened to you. I'll do the same. I have no other choice. I've only ever played the hand that was dealt to me. I never would have dreamed the game would turn sour if I no longer wanted to play. 

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